


Gone Away, Gone Ahead

by Mawgrim



Series: Ninth Pass Pern [4]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Threadfall (Dragonriders of Pern)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 195,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgrim/pseuds/Mawgrim
Summary: The Eighth Pass is over. At Fort Weyr, D’gar, Herebeth’s rider faces the future without his weyrmate, lost to Thread just two Falls before the last.When Lessa brings the five Weyrs forward to the beginning of the Ninth Pass, he must face his fears, try to adapt to an altered world and take the risk of falling in love all over again.
Series: Ninth Pass Pern [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709488
Comments: 201
Kudos: 83





	1. The Big Move

‘Riders and weyrfolk.’ T’ron’s powerful voice carried throughout the Lower Cavern at Fort Weyr, where they had all been summoned to attend an important meeting. ‘I’m aware that there has been a lot of speculation over what has been happening here during the past month…’

That was putting it lightly, D’gar thought. No matter how hard the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman had tried to keep the rumours from spreading, you couldn’t hide something the size of a queen dragon, especially not the one who had arrived, exhausted and pallid just a few sevendays ago. Her seriously ill rider had been carried up to Mardra’s weyr. When no official information had been forthcoming, gossip had filled in the gaps.

‘I’m glad to say that we’re now in a position to tell you everything.’

‘About time, too,’ hissed B’naj, standing next to him. He wasn’t the only one. All through the cavern, a murmur of voices rose, with a multitude of different questions.

T’ron silenced them all with a gesture. ‘There’ll be time for questions later. Right now, just listen.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Yesterday, as many of you may be aware, I met with the other Weyrleaders to debate a matter of utmost importance. And, having discussed the implications, we came to a unanimous decision. We will shortly be embarking on an epic journey, to help others in their hour of need.’

‘Where?’ someone near the front shouted.

‘Not where, but when,’ T’ron replied.

‘What’s he on about?’ That was from M’rell, over to D’gar’s left.

‘Shush. He’s trying to tell us.’

T’ron silenced them again. ‘This isn’t an easy story to tell. Or, indeed, an easy one to believe, the first time you hear it. So I’m going to hand you over to someone who can tell it to you in her own words. Ramoth’s rider, Lessa of Benden Weyr.’ He helped the slightly built woman to stand on the table, where she could more easily be seen by everyone. Calmly, she looked around the cavern before she began to speak. There was a certain presence about her that made you want to listen to her words, even though her voice was much softer than T’ron’s.

‘I am Lessa, Weyrwoman of Benden. Not in this time, but four hundred Turns in your future.’ Thus she commenced her story; of the Long Interval that would follow the recently ended Pass. Of the Weyr’s fall into disfavour and the reluctance of Holders to believe, after so long, that Thread would return to menace Pern once more. She told them how, in her time, only Benden Weyr was in use and that it had been so since the end of the previous Pass, when all the other Weyrs inhabitants had mysteriously disappeared, leaving nothing behind to explain where they had gone, or why.

‘And now, in my time, we are all that’s left to protect Pern. Just one hundred and forty-four fighting dragons to keep the land Thread-free.’

It wasn’t possible, D’gar knew. They wouldn’t even have the benefit of experience to help. And in a bad Fall, there’d be injuries and deaths reducing that number still further. Deaths like… He stopped himself going down that road. Sometimes, he wished his memory was as short as Herebeth’s. It would save a lot of pain that way.

Lessa was continuing with her story, telling how she and F’lar, the Weyrleader, had discovered that dragons could go _between_ not just places, but times. And that they’d managed to put together a number of clues to realise that the missing Weyrs must have come forward to their time.

‘So I knew I had to be the one to go back and show the way. But I’d not reckoned on the time it takes to jump _between_ four hundred Turns. Which is the reason it took us both so long to recover. However, there is an easy solution to the problem. We have calculated the position of the Red Star in the night sky and can use it as a reference for several shorter jumps of just twenty-five Turns. That should ensure that when we arrive, everyone will be in a fit state to fight our ancient enemy. To do what dragonriders have always done - sear Thread from the sky.’

A cheer rose up, growing in strength as more and more voices joined in. Despite everything, D’gar found himself doing the same. What was the point of living a peaceful, boring, long life? Lessa was right. This was what they had been born to do. Not to take up the challenge would be an insult to those who had died.

It was only later, in the darkness of his own weyr, that he began to think more deeply. You think too much, S’brin had often said. And, yes, it could be seen as a fault, although he couldn’t deny there were times when thinking had kept him alive.

Herebeth was sleeping deeply out beyond the heavy curtain. His grieving distressed the dragon, so it was only at these times that he allowed himself to remember the past. Not that day; that terrible Fall so close to the end of the Pass. There was no point in torturing himself with the gruesome details. No, he preferred to think of the good times. He and S'brin had grown up together in the Weyr, knowing that one day they would take their turn to stand on the Sands. After Impressing, they'd gone through the usual weyrling training. At that point in the Pass, the main need was for replacements to keep the Wings at full strength. Many of the older riders had lost their motivation after Turns of fighting Thread. Young dragons and young men, who thought they were invincible, were what was needed. And even after you lost a few friends, you never thought you could be touched. You, and anyone you loved, would get through it all unscathed, except maybe for a few minor scars to prove you’d been there.

They’d started off as friends. Love had come later. Nothing really to do with the dragons. Green Zemianth had risen for the first time at around a Turn. Herebeth hadn’t even caught her that time. For that matter, he’d not caught her every time even though their riders were weyrmates. It hadn’t really mattered. You couldn’t be jealous about what happened in a mating flight.

They’d often talked of what they’d do once the Pass was over. Joked about getting old and deaf and crotchety, of having to be lifted onto their dragons and telling the weyrlings the same old stories over and over again about their glory days of fighting Thread. They’d woven their own legend to the point at which it had seemed to set the future in stone; made their survival certain.

‘Telling a story doesn’t make it true,’ he whispered to the cold walls. Lessa’s story was a stirring one. He had no doubt she truly believed in it; that she would return with the five Weyrs to save the day. Yet how could she be so certain it would go as smoothly as she supposed? They might all be lost _between_. But was that any worse than living another fifty or sixty Turns, not knowing if you could have made a difference?

The following morning at breakfast, he heard many of the same doubts from others.

‘All because we leave here doesn’t mean we’ll arrive there,’ M’rell pointed out. Others agreed; they were all aware of how badly visualised jumps could end in disaster. Two of D’gar’s own weyrling class had disappeared _between_ during training.

‘Well, I’m all for taking the chance,’ said Z’tul. ‘The last four months have been boring enough. Imagine how it’ll be after four Turns, or forty.’

‘Typical bronze rider,’ M’rell muttered. ‘All death and glory.’ Then, remembering who he was talking to. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s fine.’ D’gar took a drink of his klah. While he appreciated their concern, he wished sometimes that his friends would stop being so over-sensitive on his behalf.

‘We’ll be hailed as heroes,’ Z’tul continued. ‘Think of all those grateful Holders. They’ll be falling over themselves to thank us. Anyone else noticed how there’s not the same respect from them now the skies are clear again.’

There were nods of agreement from around the table.

‘Doesn’t take long for people to forget how much they owe us,’ B’naj muttered.

‘Anyway, that Weyrwoman seems to know what she’s talking about. And she’s already made the jump one way, so of course it’s possible. We’re going to become legends. Like Moreta. There’ll be ballads written about this.’ Z’tul waved his spoon in the air as if he was conducting a ballad himself.

‘What do you think?’ M’rell asked.

‘He’s either right, or he’s not. Not a lot we can do about it either way. The powers-that-be have already decided we’re going.’

_I am hungry,_ Herebeth said pointedly. _You have had your breakfast._

‘Sorry. Have to go. Herebeth needs to eat.’ There wouldn’t be any herd beasts in a long abandoned Weyr, so they’d have to hunt outside. No-one objected to a dragon taking the odd beast, but it would definitely cause problems with the Holders if several hundred dragons started raiding their herds on a regular basis. ‘Might be a good idea to let Toth eat his fill while food’s still readily available,’ he suggested as he left.

Herebeth glided down from their weyr and landed with a graceful backwing in front of him. He climbed aboard for the short hop to the feeding grounds, where he sat on one of the benches and admired Herebeth’s dexterity as he neatly dispatched one of the herd. Dragons were notoriously messy eaters. Many a visitor to the Weyr had been put off their own dinner after seeing them feeding. Even at this distance he could hear the crack of bones and had to laugh as Herebeth turned, two thirds of a hind leg sticking out from his muzzle.  
_Mmm. Crunchy,_ the dragon sent. _Why are you amused?_

_You look funny when you’re eating._

_So do you._

D’gar glanced up to the rim of the Bowl, where the great golden queen, Ramoth perched beside the Star Stones. He wondered if she was unusually large, or if all the dragons four hundred Turns hence were similarly proportioned. Well, if all went as planned, he’d soon be seeing for himself.

Over the next two days, preparation for the ‘big move’ as it was soon informally called, began in earnest. Along with the remainder of ‘C’ Wing - a scant fifteen since that bloody day - D’gar worked at packing supplies into transport nets. The larger dragons, including Herebeth, would be carrying these along with passengers.

‘You don’t realise how much stuff there is until you need to move it.’ D’gar’s birth mother, Agarra shoved a motley collection of stacked bowls into his arms. From the dust on them, they’d not been used for many a Turn.

‘Are you sure these are necessary?’

‘Well, we can’t just leave them. What a waste that would be. Anyway, how would you know about what’s needed in a kitchen?’

He sighed. Every department seemed to be finding lots of items that had been stashed in storerooms against the time when they ‘might come in useful’. Why couldn’t the non-perishable things just be left where they were and only essential items packed? At this rate, they wouldn’t have enough dragons to carry everything. It was an amusing thought that when they finally arrived in that distant future they would look more akin to travelling pedlars than a lean, mean fighting force.

In between all the packing and carrying, normal Weyr life carried on. Dragons fed and bathed in the lake. Children took items out of the stacked piles of goods to play with and got told off more than usual. A green dragon, her hide glowing vividly, rose to mate, pursued by a cluster of blues and browns.

D’gar checked Herebeth to see if he was interested, but the brown dragon was sleeping in the afternoon sunshine and showed no inclination to follow. He’d not chased a green for several months. Not since Zemianth had gone _between_. He worried, not for the first time, that his own lack of interest might be inhibiting his dragon, then put aside that thought. There was enough work to be done without adding the complications of a mating flight and its aftermath, so not having to take part was probably a good thing.

The riders were already scrambling to be first into the ground level weyr set aside for the purpose.

‘Look at that lot.’ Agarra appeared at his side with yet more pans. She shook her head sadly. ‘Getting out of work just to enjoy themselves. It shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘You can’t stop dragons rising, mum.’ She was Holdbred, but you’d have thought living in the Weyr for so long would have changed her opinions.

‘That’s as may be,’ she sniffed. ‘Anyway, can you find some room for these?’

Eventually, everything was ready. There were various opinions on why they’d not taken longer over the preparations - after all, there was no need to hurry at this end of time - but most people seemed to agree that it was necessary to preserve the mystery as to why the five Weyrs had been so suddenly abandoned. The longer they stayed, the more likely tongues would wag and give away the game. It also ensured that no one had time for second thoughts, particularly some of the Lower Cavern drudges, who might otherwise have run away. The fact that extra watchers had been put over the entrance tunnel to the Weyr Bowl supported that theory.

It had been decided they would travel at night; less chance of anyone outside the Weyrs spotting the movement of so many dragons at once. They formed up into their usual Wings, then took off in turn. Herebeth leapt into the air, heavily laden with goods and passengers and took his position. They waited for the signal, then, obtaining visuals from each Wingleader, went _between_. Colder than the winter night sky, blacker than the darkest cavern. Although warned it would take longer than a normal place to place jump, it wasn’t until they emerged safely that D’gar breathed a sigh of relief.

_That wasn’t difficult,_ Herebeth said. They landed briefly for a rest and for the Weyrleader and Wingleaders to check the next set of coordinates. The pale light of Belior illuminated the Bowl. Even after a mere twenty-five Turns, it already appeared unkempt and uncared for. He picked out the black maw of his own weyr in the wall. If they’d not jumped through time, then he’d still be living there, twenty-five Turns older. It was a dizzying thought.

_I have the next visual from Piroth._ They took off in formation and once all were airborne, went _between_ again. Jump after jump followed, until he almost lost count of how many, or where - when - they were in time. The constellations changed as did the position of the moons, but it was the Red Star that led them on, diminishing for a hundred Turns, then growing larger again - although this being the Long Interval, not close enough to drop its deadly rain onto Pern.

Two hundred Turns gone. For the Weyrbred, like himself, it wasn’t such a wrench. His mother and her current partner rode behind him. For those who might have families left behind in Craft and Holds, there must come the realisation that all those they cared for had long since died and gone to dust. I have outlived my own lifetime, he thought, but said nothing to Agarra. S’brin would have understood. They’d have been making observations like that to each other at every stop.

Now the Red Star dwindled again in its orbit during another hundred Turns that passed - for them - in just a few minutes. But this time, as it grew closer again, they approached their final destination. Down below, in those sleeping lands, were people to whom Thread was not even a memory, only some long ago menace sung about in unfashionable ballads. Down below was an empty Weyr, long since abandoned. But soon, they would be coming back; coming home.

The final jump was to Ruatha Hold, but no sooner had they landed than they were off again.

_We have to go back two days,_ Herebeth said. _Why should two days make a difference after so many Turns?_

_I’ve no more idea than you._ What Turn was it, even? D’gar felt as if his brains had been scrambled. _Just do as they say. The sooner we arrive when we need to be, the sooner we can get home._

One last jump. Ruatha again, in twilight. A feel of springtime in the air. And dragons of every colour settling to land. It was an awe inspiring sight, one he knew he’d never forget. He imagined some drunken hold worker in the cots below looking up and wondering just how strong that home brew had been to make him hallucinate such a multitude.

‘What’s happening now? Where are we?’ Agarra asked.

‘Ruatha.’ The last Fall had been here, four months ago to his memory, but four hundred Turns in this new reality. The Hold looked subtly different and there were many new buildings outside its walls. Such changes must have happened everywhere after so long. You’d need to fly straight a few times to make sure of a place rather than risk going _between_ on old visuals. Otherwise, who knows when you might end up.

‘We could at least have come back in daylight,’ Agarra said. ‘Just to see our way around the place. It’ll make things twice as difficult getting the kitchens sorted. Because, of course, everyone will be wanting their breakfast as usual tomorrow morning.’


	2. Six Weyrs at Telgar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After coming forward, the Fort Weyr riders prepare to fight Thread over Telgar.

D’gar woke, in his weyr, huddled under furs against the warm bulk of his still sleeping dragon. It had been easier and more comfortable to stay out here than to face the dusty decay of his once spotless sleeping chamber. Herebeth’s presence would keep away tunnel snakes too and there were probably a few of those slithering round in the darkness. Far below, lights showed where the unloading had already begun. And yes, the smell of freshly brewed klah rose up in the still, predawn air, proving that the kitchen staff really could work miracles. 

No matter how prepared you thought you were, it had been a shock to see what four hundred Turns of neglect had done to Fort Weyr. Not that it would be any different in the other abandoned Weyrs. Igen would probably be full of sand and High Reaches snowed under, even though spring was on the way. Still, a few sevendays would have things almost back to normal. And now that it was back to the old routine, fighting Thread, they’d have to sort out the Wings pretty fast. After the end of the Pass, there hadn’t been any real need to bring 'C’ Wing - or ‘F’ for that matter - back up to full strength. T’ron would have his work cut out shuffling riders around. It might make more sense to merge ‘C’ and ‘F’ Wings into one for the time being. Mind you, that was someone else’s problem. All he needed to do was to make sure he was fit and ready to fight Thread all over again. 

That last Fall, over Ruatha, had been a bit of a blur. He’d still been in shock. If it hadn’t been for Herebeth’s good sense he might not even be here now. Back then, he hadn’t really cared whether he lived or died. In fact, it had seemed grossly unfair that he’d survived when S’brin and all those others hadn’t. Worse still that they’d been so close to making it through in one piece. Two sharding Falls before the last, when it had felt like they were on the home straight! 

There had been low cloud that day and a fine drizzle reducing visibility to the point you could barely see your own dragon’s head. Too little of it to drown Thread, but enough to make it merge into the background; silver against grey. Add the occasional gusts of wind blowing clumps unpredictably sideways and it had been lethal. It had been the worst Fall in his five Turns of experience and even the older riders agreed they’d rarely seen conditions as bad. All you could do was try to keep position, flame as much as you could and hope you’d be quick enough to dodge _between_ if the worst happened. Freeze the stuff off before it did too much damage. 

But if you hit a really big clump; if you got scored over more than fifty percent of your body, then no matter how fast you went _between_ it wasn’t enough. The healers said it wasn’t necessarily the scoring that killed, but the shock. Your heart couldn’t take it. 

By the time they landed; by the time he’d run into the infirmary, it had already been too late. S’brin had died and Zemianth gone _between._ D’gar had done what he had to; taken what was left of his weyrmate’s body between so that rider and dragon could be reunited in death. That awful sight filled his mind’s eye again, as vivid as if it was just yesterday. He pushed it away, not wanting Herebeth to wake and share in it. Wondered how many Turns it would take until those memories blurred and faded, or if they ever would. 

There was no point in trying to sleep again. He sat watching the lightening sky until the rising sun blotted out the baleful glare of the Red Star. Herebeth yawned and stretched out his neck. 

_How did everything get so dirty so quickly?_

_It’s four hundred Turns worth of dirt, don’t you remember?_

____

_Oh yes. I really fancy a nice, juicy wherry._

______ _ _

_Your stomach is a bottomless pit. Well, if you want one, we’ll have to hunt later. There’s nothing here._

________ _ _ _ _

Daylight revealed the true extent of the desolation. Although inhabited again, with dragons in almost every weyr opening and people busy down in the Bowl, Fort still had the look of a place left to wind and weather for a very long time. Where once the beast pens had been was a wide expanse of scrubby bushes. That would all need to be cleared. The lake was partly silted up; the fire heights sprouting grass and other undesirable greenery. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Think someone will be doing some flaming later on to clear all that. Might even be us._

________ _ _ _ _

_Not until I’ve had my wherry. Or maybe two._

________ _ _ _ _

Going hunting wasn’t a bad idea. If he brought back a few spare wherries for the kitchens it might be enough to put some extra rations his way. Food was definitely going to be short until the Holders started to send in long overdue tithes. From what he’d heard, there were still doubters around; those who wouldn’t believe in Thread's return until it fell over their land. It would take a few Falls before they recalled the words of the teaching song to ‘honour those the dragons heed’. And this early in the spring was always a hard time in the holds as the supplies gathered in from the previous Turns harvest were used up and the new season’s early crops not yet ready. Yes, the kitchens would be hard pressed to feed everyone as well as they were accustomed. 

________ _ _ _ _

He took a quick look back into his weyr. The drifts of windblown dirt and debris were even more depressing by daylight. It would have to be cleaned and he had no doubt that he’d end up being the one to do it, but that could wait for later. First thing to do was to get some breakfast and find out if there had been any orders which would affect him. 

________ _ _ _ _

The dining hall was surprisingly full. D’gar grabbed a mug of klah and bowl of porridge then went to join his Wing. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Best get your porridge down quick,’ M’rell said. ‘G’reden had a crawler fall in his.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar looked up at the ceiling. There were quite a few webs still up there. “Thanks for the warning. So where’s our leader?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Summoned to a meeting. Guess we’ll find out what they’ve got in mind for us later.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘I was going to suggest a few of us went wherry hunting.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘That dragon of yours hungry again?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

He nodded between mouthfuls of porridge. ‘I’ll bet he’s not the only one. He carried a fair amount of weight yesterday.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Toth too. Did they really need to transport so much? Surely it wouldn’t have done much harm leaving storage jars stashed away for four hundred Turns.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you.’ The porridge wasn’t bad, considering. Mind you, the kitchen staff must have been up for most of the night to turn out any sort of breakfast at all. Wouldn’t stop some riders moaning, though. He looked up to see that R’feem was on his way back. 

________ _ _ _ _

Their Wingleader settled himself at the head of the table and poured himself a mug of klah. 

________ _ _ _ _

So, what’s the news?’ D’gar asked. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘We’ll be riding Fall tomorrow morning, over Telgar.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Telgar’s not ours,’ G’reden protested. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Tomorrow it’s everyone’s. Mass show of strength to reassure the Lord Holders that we’re back to protect them. And guess what we’ll be doing today?’ R’feem smiled slowly. ‘Everyone’s favourite job, bagging up firestone.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

There were groans from around the table. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Your dragons will have to help too. There’s a lot of rubble to dig out before we get to it.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar looked around him. No one else seemed inclined to say anything, so he took the incentive. ‘There are a few hungry dragons around after yesterday’s work. If it’s all right with you, I thought we could take them hunting this morning.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘I’ll not stop you. You’ll have to make up the time, though. No skiving off early if you start later than the rest.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Fair enough.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Just don’t go taking any prize beasts. The Weyrleader will be meeting with the Lord Holders over the next few days to talk about tithes and he’ll not be happy if they’re already complaining about stock losses.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘We’ll stick to feral beasts and wild wherries then.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

Three of them went out after breakfast had finished. Once they’d cleared the Bowl, the changes to the countryside were obvious. Swathes of mature trees grew on hillsides that had once been clear. Many more dwellings had been built, surrounded by cultivated fields where newly planted crops were showing green. Pastures were full of herd beasts. In short, there was a great deal more to be protected than they’d been used to before. 

________ _ _ _ _

Herebeth glanced down as they flew. _Lots of food on the hoof down there._

________ _ _ _ _

_None that we’re allowed to take, though. Anyway, I thought you fancied a wherry._

________ _ _ _ _

_For a snack, yes. But I’d not say no to a herdbeast either._

________ _ _ _ _

When they reached the cliffs where wherries had always nested, D’gar - and Herebeth - were pleasantly surprised. The avians had few natural predators and the long absence of a nearby weyr had led to a population explosion. This new generation were also unused to dragons and thus were easy pickings. Within a fairly short time, all three dragons had sated their hunger pangs and their riders were able to sling several wherries each across their necks to take back with them. 

________ _ _ _ _

As D’gar secured them to his riding straps, M’rell came over. ‘You going to be all right?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Carrying these? Sure.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

He paused briefly before continuing. ’No, I meant tomorrow. Fall.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘I was all right before, wasn’t I?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Not really. You were lucky Herebeth had more sense than to let you get yourself into trouble.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘I wouldn’t risk his hide.’ Anger flared at the suggestion. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘No, but you’d risk your own.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Same thing, isn’t it.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Just so long as you realise that.’ M’rell patted him on the shoulder. ‘We all lost friends. Don’t want to lose any more if we can help it.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

As he’d anticipated, the wherries were gratefully received by the kitchens. Having unloaded, they joined the rest of the Wing uncovering, sorting and bagging up the firestone supplies. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Let's be grateful it’s only a short Fall tomorrow. And there’ll be so many dragons, no one’s going to be overworked.’ R’feem doled out some of the newly bagged rock to the weyrlings who had been allocated to sear the greenery from around the Bowl. By evening, the stench of burned grass and firestone filled the air and dragons going aloft stirred up a gritty ash. 

________ _ _ _ _

They made their weary way to the dining hall where - surprise, surprise - a meal of wherry stew padded out with plenty of tubers was on offer. No one stayed up too late. It would be an early start the next morning as although the Fall was due to start three hours after dawn, Telgar’s dawn was well ahead of Fort’s. Plus, with so many wings of dragons involved, there was a fair amount of planning involved. The six Weyrs would be riding Fall in shifts and doubtless those who were waiting their turn would be watching and critiquing the tactics of others. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘It’ll be more like the Games than real fighting,’ B’naj said. ‘Still, it’s a good opportunity to show Benden how it should be done.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

There wasn’t time for more than a quick mug of klah before assembling in the Bowl. It was too early for breakfast, even if he’d been able to stomach it. That was nothing new; the sense of nervous anticipation had always stopped him from eating much before Fall. 

________ _ _ _ _

As Herebeth crunched firestone, D’gar checked the riding straps yet again. It was strange to be making preparations he’d thought behind him forever. All around him, other riders were making the same checks and performing their own, time-worn rituals they believed would keep both themselves and their dragons safe. R’feem, for example, always put his left glove on first. T’garrin walked round his dragon three times, pretending to be checking his straps and Belloth’s hide. S’brin and he had always fastened each others riding jackets. Of course, the last two Falls, that hadn’t been the case, but he’d not expected to come back from those anyway. Strange thing that at this moment he felt more keenly alive than he had during the past four months. Was that a bad omen, he wondered, or a good one? 

________ _ _ _ _

_We will be fine._ Herebeth said. _I will flame Thread from the sky._

________ _ _ _ _

_I know._

________ _ _ _ _

_It is what we were hatched to do, after all._

________ _ _ _ _

Dragons had such a matter of fact view of the world. Plus, they didn’t fall into the human habit of over-thinking things. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Right. “C” Wing, mount your dragons.’ R’feem called out, finally pulling on his right glove before climbing into position. Everyone followed suit. Fighting straps were fastened, although they’d not be pulled to full tightness until leading edge was sighted. Weyrlings passed up spare bags of firestone. 

________ _ _ _ _

Ahead of them, ‘A’ Wing was already aloft, their wings outlined by the rising sun as they ascended above the rim of the Bowl before abruptly disappearing between. D’gar felt Herebeth shift beneath him, eager to follow. 

________ _ _ _ _

Once ‘B’ Wing had taken off, R’feem gave the signal and with a powerful leap, they were airborne. Piroth sent out the coordinates to each dragon in the Wing and they went _between._

________ _ _ _ _

The sun was still low over Telgar’s rocky peaks. The snow on the higher ground glistened. The air was chilly, although not cold enough to freeze Thread to black dust, more’s the pity. 

________ _ _ _ _

What a sight it must be for the ground crews. Near on eighteen hundred dragons assembling when they’d been used to seeing no more than a hundred-odd in the sky. They’d been issued with some of the spare flamethrowers that had been brought forward. D’gar still found it strange to think that in Lessa’s time, flamethrowers hadn’t been available. The Long Interval had rendered them obsolete and the only record they’d even existed had been in old tapestries. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Piroth says we will be flying the first half of the Fall,_ Herebeth relayed. _Together with all the dragons of Fort, Benden and Ista. Ista will be taking the top level, Benden the next and Fort below._

________ _ _ _ _

So, just above the queens' wing. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Best leave a few Threads for the queens to mop up or they’ll be grumbling._ He never envied the queens their job. Flamethrowers were unwieldy enough on the ground, let alone on dragon back. How would the diminutive Lessa fare with a flamethrower, he wondered. Mind you, all queen riders built up a fair amount of muscle tending to their massive dragons. And if she was brave enough to jump back four hundred Turns with no real idea of whether she’d succeed or not, riding Fall wouldn’t worry her too much. 

________ _ _ _ _

Now there was an opportunity for comparison, it was clear to see that Ramoth was far larger than Mardra's Loranth and none of the other queens came anywhere near her in size. She was no anomaly either. All of the Benden dragons were larger than those from any of the other Weyrs. There were variations in size within each colour, of course. Herebeth was slightly larger than average for a brown, but some of the Benden blues looked to be not much smaller and their browns were close in size to many of the Fort bronzes. That would get up some folk's noses, for sure. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Size doesn’t matter,_ Herebeth said. _I have outflown bronzes before in mating flights._

________ _ _ _ _

_I know. But just look at them._

________ _ _ _ _

_Those greens will be easy to catch. They’re too big to be able to turn fast._

________ _ _ _ _

_I doubt you’ll ever get a chance to chase any Benden greens._

________ _ _ _ _

He glanced toward the eastern horizon again. Everyone did, when you were waiting. If it was cloudy, you could imagine that distant haze to be nothing more than a harmless rain shower blowing in, until it came close enough to see the deadly silver-grey of descending Thread. 

________ _ _ _ _

Today, the sky was clear and the leading edge was given a dangerous glitter by the morning sunshine. Dragons became restless, sensing its presence. They were always eager to fight. Even dragons grounded by injury would try to respond when Thread fell and often needed to be forcibly restrained. 

________ _ _ _ _

Herebeth’s surging emotions steadied his own nerves. He tightened the straps another hole as they flew in formation toward the oncoming Fall. Up ahead, the first gouts of flame blazed bright. D’gar took his last few breaths of clean air. Soon, it would be thick with ash and the stench of firestone. The higher levels were already searing plenty of Thread. Flying the top level was dangerous; you were the first line of defence against the destruction raining from the sky. Anything you couldn’t clear continued inexorably downward. The turbulence caused by wind and the downdraught of wings sent the falling Thread into swirls and eddies. Fighting in the lower levels meant less of the stuff, but it often came from unpredictable directions that you needed to be quick to avoid. 

________ _ _ _ _

Herebeth flamed a clump to his left. How satisfying it was to see the foul stuff wither and char. Once you were in the thick of it, there was no time to over-think things. Everything came down to reflex action, experience and the practice put in during drills. Despite ‘C’ wing flying light, they cleared a wide swathe; dragons and riders working well as a team. 

________ _ _ _ _

Belloth blinked _between_ to avoid a mess of strands that would have come down on top of him. 

________ _ _ _ _

_I will take it,_ Herebeth said. D’gar admired his economy of flame; a quick blast that seared it to ash. The dragon quickly resumed his place in the Wing. He wiped his face with the back of his glove then took a quick look around. Herebeth’s multi-faceted eyes could scan a greater area of sky, but sometimes a rider spotted something his dragon hadn’t. Plus he had the freedom of greater movement, strapped as he was between the neck ridges. Herebeth needed to look ahead to keep track of where he was in the formation, changing his speed and direction to keep a safe distance. 

________ _ _ _ _

A glance below showed the great golden queens in a V formation, ready to catch any Thread that had escaped thus far and almost an equal distance below them, the bright green of growing crops in the fields. So much cultivated land, in this new age. Trees, too; whole plantations of them. That wouldn’t have been acceptable back in the old days. Dragons were there to protect the Holds; their people, beasts and crops, but there was only so much ground that could easily be covered. The Holders needed to be reminded of their responsibilities too. 

________ _ _ _ _

A blur of movement caught his eye; strands of Thread that had detached from a larger clump, blowing in from the right. Herebeth swerved, flicked _between_ to avoid being scored. By the time they emerged, Toth had seared them. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Well spotted._ Herebeth hadn’t lost his fighting reflexes, that was sure. 

________ _ _ _ _

_I always keep us safe._

________ _ _ _ _

It was all too easy to pick up the rhythm of this Fall. Swerve, sear, duck, blink _between._ Whenever there was clear space ahead, throw another chunk of firestone to Herebeth, who turned his head to catch the rock between his teeth. Crunch, flame, dive, weave. Don’t get complacent. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Complacency kills,’ the Weyrlingmaster had said often enough and how true that was. You kept your eyes peeled and didn’t get distracted. Not even when you heard cries of pain, or saw another dragon blink _between_ Threadscored. All that mattered was getting your dragon and yourself through it safely to live and fight another day. 

________ _ _ _ _

It came as a surprise when the replacement Wings arrived halfway through the Fall and it was over for the day. Herebeth was reluctant. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Thread still falls._

________ _ _ _ _

_Yes, but others are taking our place. Our shift has finished._

________ _ _ _ _

The Wing returned to Fort Weyr. As they descended into the Bowl, D’gar started to feel the after effects; the chill that had found its way into his joints, bruising from the straps and all the usual minor aches and niggles that were somehow reassuring, because they meant you’d got through another one. A few dragons and riders were being treated for scores outside the infirmary, but it didn’t look as if there were any serious injuries this time. Something else to give thanks for. 

________ _ _ _ _

_I want to swim,_ Herebeth said. 

________ _ _ _ _

_The lake’s a mess. Needs dredging before it’ll be usable._ Still, they needed to go somewhere to wash off the grime and the stench of firestone. 

________ _ _ _ _

They landed on the area that had once (four hundred Turns ago) been smooth, but was now covered in rocky debris not yet fully cleared. He slid down carefully, knowing that the impact would hurt his cold feet. It wasn’t as bad as after a full Fall but he still leaned against Herebeth’s foreleg for a few moments until he was confident he’d not fall over when he attempted to walk. In the winter months, many riders suffered from chilblains and the weird and wonderful cures people had tried were always a popular topic for conversation. 

________ _ _ _ _

He checked Herebeth for any injuries. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment and with the frequent blinks _between_ a dragon (and their rider) ignored any minor scorings. It was only when you were safely landed that you started to feel the pain. 

________ _ _ _ _

_I am fine,_ Herebeth said. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Me too. Apart from my freezing feet._

________ _ _ _ _

_I have some flame left. Shall I warm them for you?_ Herebeth exhaled a quick burst of flame to demonstrate. 

________ _ _ _ _

_No thanks. I’d rather not barbecue my toes. A good soak in some warm water will do the job._

________ _ _ _ _

The other riders were making similar checks. Blue Jekkoth had a damaged wingtip and G’reden was slathering it with numbweed. ‘My fault,’ he muttered. ‘Shouldn’t have cut it so fine.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Don’t blame yourself too much, lad,’ R’feem assured him. ‘We’ve all done it.’ He turned to the rest of the Wing. ‘I’m sure you all want to get your dragons cleaned up, so what about a swim in the sea? I know a cove in Southern Boll that would be ideal.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

Soaking in the warmth of the ocean sounded great. Everyone else seemed to think the same, so after grabbing a few supplies, they took off again, going _between_ to emerge in warm sunshine over a black sand beach with plenty of large, smooth rocks off to the right for sitting or sunbathing. 

________ _ _ _ _

Once the fighting straps were removed, the dragons launched themselves into the clear water. They seemed almost as much in their element there as in the air, diving down with wings folded, then reemerging to splash each other like children at play. D’gar sat on one of the nearer rocks and pulled off his boots. The warm sand felt good under his bare feet. Some of the other riders were already stripping off to join their dragons, armed with long handled brushes for scrubbing their hide. He wasn’t far behind, swimming out to where Herebeth was floating, his head still partially submerged so that his eyes glowed like jewels beneath the water. As he swam alongside, the dragon blew out a jet of water at him. He dived underneath it and came up on the far side. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Trying to drown me, are you?_

________ _ _ _ _

_Never. But I know you humans like to play in the sea as much as we do._

________ _ _ _ _

He glanced over toward the shore, where several of the riders were having a water fight. 

________ _ _ _ _

_See what you mean._ It reminded him of the previous summer - a summer now four hundred Turns gone - when he and S’brin had spent a day off beside the sea. That had been a good day. The trouble with memories was they crept up on you when you least expected it, making you all too aware of all that was lost. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Why are you feeling sad again?_

________ _ _ _ _

_Just remembering something._

________ _ _ _ _

_But it’s a happy memory, not a sad one._ Herebeth sounded puzzled. 

________ _ _ _ _

_I know. I’m sad because there won’t be another day like that again._

________ _ _ _ _

_Because Zemianth and her rider have gone between? But you are still here and so am I. There can be many more good days in our lives. Today is one._ He paused. _I have an itchy patch on my neck ridge._

________ _ _ _ _

Trust a dragon to bring it back to the here and now. He set to with the scrubbing brush. 

________ _ _ _ _

Once the dragons were clean, they basked on the beach, enjoying the sun. D’gar found a comfortable rock and sat there to dry out. Lilith’s moss green hide was looking very bright, he noticed. She’d be rising soon, for sure. Probably not today, though, as none of her potential suitors seemed to be taking much notice. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Lilith is a fine young green,_ Herebeth commented. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Are you going to chase her when she rises?_

________ _ _ _ _

_Maybe._

________ _ _ _ _

He didn’t seem that bothered. Perhaps he was one of those dragons who just didn’t need to chase greens that often. Although when Zemianth had been alive, he’d usually gone for her. Not for the first time, D’gar was thankful that he’d not Impressed a green. To be tied in to that regular mating cycle, with all its mood swings and emotional issues wouldn’t have suited him at all. S’brin had always been tricky to live with for a few days before Zemianth rose. 

________ _ _ _ _

Someone put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Lovely here, isn’t it?’ V’chal, Lilith’s rider sat down next to him. A bit too close, truth to tell, but you didn’t want to upset other riders in your Wing if you could avoid it. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Not bad.’ Best keep it non-committal. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘You, ah…doing anything later?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Probably cleaning up my weyr. It’s a real mess.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Mine too. Want to come up and help me out? Then maybe I could do the same for you…’ The expression on his face made it clear that cleaning wasn’t all that he anticipated doing. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Maybe.’ That wasn’t too definite. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘You need to get over it, you know. No point moping over him forever.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar knew V’chal’s tactlessness was only because of his dragon’s state so he bit back the retort he might have made. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘If it had been you gone, he’d have got someone else by now.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

This time, D’gar rounded on him. ‘That’s enough.’ Bloody proddy greens. 

________ _ _ _ _

V’chal backed off. ‘All right. No need to make a fuss. But I’ll still be around later. If you’re interested…’ He slid down off the rock and walked away, making sure D’gar had a good view of what was on offer, then headed over towards T’garrin, presumably to try the same with him. 

________ _ _ _ _

The afternoon wore on. Funny how, when you were warmed through, it was hard to recall the chill of earlier in the day. Eventually, R’feem got them all to start packing up. He had a Wingleaders’ meeting to attend and didn’t want anyone suggesting his Wing weren’t pulling their weight in the big clean up. Before they mounted, he called D’gar and M’rell over. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘There’s a small Fish Hold just beyond that headland. Why don’t you two head back that way and get us some fresh fish.’ It was phrased as a request, but carried the weight of an order. 

________ _ _ _ _

They watched the rest of the Wing take off and go _between._

________ _ _ _ _

‘Great,’ said M’rell. ‘We get to cart back a smelly load of fish. What did we do to get up his nose?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Nothing. You should take it as a complement.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Why?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Think about it. We both ride browns. We’ve been acting as unofficial Wingseconds for a few months now. Maybe he’s considering making it permanent now that we’re fighting again. I’ll bet his meeting’s going to be about sorting out the Wings.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘You could be right. I’d not thought of it that way. Shall we go, then?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar mounted up and fixed the straps to his belt. ‘Mind you, he was last here four hundred Turns ago. There might only be ruins there now.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Let’s hope not.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

The dragons flew over the top of the cliffs. As the land sloped down on the far side, rock gave way to close cropped turf, dotted with grazing beasts. Stone walls divided the hillside into a patchwork of fields. The cove itself was crescent shaped, with a harbour that had been designed to be partly sheltered under a natural overhang of the cliff. Heedless of this protection, today a couple of small boats were moored out in the open, just inside the harbour wall. Several stone built cottages lay beyond the shallow beach. In defiance of tradition, the areas directly behind each dwelling had been planted with vegetables and climbing plants clung to the frontage of three of the dwellings. 

________ _ _ _ _

A group of children spotted the dragons as they descended to land. Shrieking, they ran inside one of the open doorways. A man who was mending nets at the quayside saw them, but gave no greeting. D’gar and M’rell strolled over. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Afternoon,’ M’rell said. ‘Who’s the Holder around here?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘That’d be me.’ He looked them up and down. ‘Not seen dragons in these parts for a few Turns. Not since they took one of my boys on Search, anyway. Hope you’re not after any more young ‘uns.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘We’re not on Search at present,’ D’gar said. The man’s attitude struck him as surly. Search was a right of dragonriders and these Holder folk had enough children not to miss a few of them. ‘But we’d like some fish for the Weyr.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

He made another knot in the net. ‘You would? Well, I can offer you some freshly caught yellow-stripe for a fair price.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Price?’ Had he just heard it right? ‘We’re dragonriders. We don’t pay for what’s rightfully ours.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

The fisherman laughed. ‘Away with ye, then. If you can’t pay, you don’t get. What good’s the Weyr ever done for me except stolen a pair of hands.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

M’rell stepped forward. ‘You’ll be glad of us in a few days' time when Thread falls over your land.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Thread! That’s nowt but a story for babes.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘It fell this morning on Telgar and Crom,’ D’gar put in. ‘Have you not heard?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘We don’t get much news down this way. But why should I believe you anyway? Thread’s gone.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

M’rell shook his head. ’Believe us or not, it’ll destroy you just the same. Although if you don’t want our protection, we can tell the Weyr not to fly over this area.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar put a hand on his arm. ‘No need to go that far. I’m sure the Holder will be glad to tithe some fish to us and we’ll say no more about this… misunderstanding.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

The fisherman snorted. ‘Listen. I don’t take to bullying from no one, whether they’ve got dragons or not. You want fish, you pay the going price.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

_Got any flame left?_ D’gar sent to Herebeth. 

________ _ _ _ _

_A little._

________ _ _ _ _

_Show him._

________ _ _ _ _

Herebeth exhaled fairly gently and a small gout of flame erupted from his mouth, setting fire to the edges of the net. 

________ _ _ _ _

Angrily, the man rose and stamped it out. ‘Hey, watch it!’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘While we’re here, we should probably burn off all that greenery from round your dwellings too,’ M’rell said in an even tone. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Don’t you dare.’ The fisherman moved forward in a threatening manner towards M’rell. As he approached, Toth inclined his head very slightly, knocking him off balance. One of his feet caught in the net and he ended up sprawled on the ground. 

________ _ _ _ _

A woman came running out of the nearest house. ‘You leave my husband alone,’ she shrieked, lashing out at D’gar. She landed a blow on his shoulder before he managed to grab her and hold her at arm's length. She carried on shouting insults and trying unsuccessfully to hit him again. 

________ _ _ _ _

A couple more men emerged from the other cottage door, although they seemed more interested in watching than inclined to join in. This wasn’t going at all well, D’gar thought, dodging aside as the woman spat at him. There was no way they’d get any fish from these ungrateful Holders. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Let’s leave it,’ he suggested. ‘We can come back in a few days after Threadfall. I’m sure they’ll show us a bit more respect then.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Fine by me.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

D’gar pushed the woman away. Herebeth exhaled another small flame - good job the Fall had been a short one - which kept both fisherfolk at a distance while they mounted the dragons. As they ascended, the man sat up, shaking his fist at them and the woman threw something that landed far short. In a few moments the dragons were high enough to go _between._

________ _ _ _ _

They emerged over the Bowl of Fort Weyr in late afternoon sunshine. A working party had started clearing the lake and dirt was being swept out from several of the weyr openings. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘What are we going to say?’ M’rell asked after they landed. ‘That was embarrassing.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘Well, we can either lie through our teeth and pretend there was no one there any more - which is going to get found out sooner or later - or just tell the truth and give everyone some warning about the attitudes of modern Holders. That’s assuming they weren’t just an exceptionally surly bunch.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘R’feem isn’t going to be happy. I think he fancied fish for tea.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘R’feem can go back himself if he wants. Good job there still seems to be a healthy respect for dragons, if not for their riders.’ D’gar rubbed his shoulder where he’d been hit. ‘Sharding typical. I get through Fall unscathed and end up being clobbered by a fishwife.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘I’m sure V’chal will rub it better if you ask him nicely,’ M’rell smirked. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘V’chal won’t be rubbing anything of mine, thanks very much.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘You’ll not be so picky if your Herebeth flies Lilith.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘He’s not interested in Lilith.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

_I never said I wasn’t interested. She is a pretty young green, after all._

________ _ _ _ _

_Chasing’s one thing, catching is quite another._

________ _ _ _ _

_Lilith’s rider likes you._ There was a certain degree of amusement in Herebeth’s tone. _That might make her easier for me to catch._

________ _ _ _ _

‘Ha!’ M’rell said. ‘Think I’m going put some marks on the winner of that mating flight.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

Herebeth flew them back up to their depressingly grubby weyr. The sunshine was illuminating the entrance, making it look all the worse. Much as he didn’t feel like cleaning, he also knew that he’d have to make a start at some point. Good job it was a fairly high up weyr; those nearer to ground level would have accumulated a sight more wind-blown dirt and debris. Mind you, he’d have to go back down to the Lower Caverns for a broom and it was pleasant sitting on the sun warmed ledge, so perhaps it could wait another day. It wasn’t like he’d be entertaining guests or anything and he could sleep out with his dragon again rather than braving the sleeping chamber. 

________ _ _ _ _

_My weyr could do with a sweep as well. It is rather gritty._ Herebeth settled on the ledge, moving some of the dust aside with his tail. 

________ _ _ _ _

_It’ll be even more gritty with all the sand you’ve brought back from that beach. Still, if you want me to sweep it, you’ll have to take me back down to fetch a broom._

________ _ _ _ _

_Oh. Maybe not today, then._

________ _ _ _ _

_My thoughts exactly._ It was always good when your dragon agreed with you. 

________ _ _ _ _

They spent a pleasant hour or so watching people working down in the Bowl, until the sun dipped below the rim and the ledge slipped into shadow. 

________ _ _ _ _

_Piroth’s rider wants to see you._

________ _ _ _ _

Shells! He’d almost forgotten about the whole sorry fish episode. Presumably R’feem hadn’t. _Where is he?_

________ _ _ _ _

_Outside the dining hall._

________ _ _ _ _

_Better stir yourself then._

________ _ _ _ _

When he was dropped off it was clear from the number of riders there that it wasn’t just him R’feem wanted to see. The whole Wing was assembling. Great. That meant everyone would get to know what had happened. 

________ _ _ _ _

They went inside and sat around their usual table. One thing that four hundred Turns hadn’t changed. R’feem waited until everyone had settled before he started speaking. ‘I just got out of the Wingleaders meeting. There’s going to be some changes.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

Well, they’d known that was going to happen. The details were all they needed to hear. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘As you know, our Wing’s been under strength for a few months now. After careful consideration, the Weyrleader has decided to deploy us where we’ll be most useful.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

They’ll be splitting us up to fill in gaps in the other Wings for the time being, he thought. Then perhaps when the next class of weyrlings are ready to fight, ‘C’ Wing will reform and ride again. He certainly didn’t expect to hear what came next. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘So, we’re all being seconded to Benden Weyr.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘What?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘How long for?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

‘When?’ 

________ _ _ _ _

The hubbub rose. 

________ _ _ _ _

R’feem called for order. ‘Now come on lads, we’ve all been sent to help out at other Weyrs before. This is just another one.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

Except it didn’t feel quite like that. Everyone had been unsettled to some degree by the Big Move. It had all sounded very heroic and stirring, but when you arrived in a long neglected Weyr and found most of the comforts you’d taken for granted weren’t going to be available for the foreseeable future, it changed things. Anyone with a lick of sense was going to have realised by now that it would take a while before Fort - and it must be the same at the other five abandoned Weyrs - was anywhere near back to normal operation again. Add in the shock of seeing how much the land you’d known so well had altered and it was enough to leave the most stolid rider feeling out of sorts. Now they were asking dragons and riders to uproot again. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were being sent to, say, Ista or High Reaches - at least the people there would be feeling that same sense of dislocation from the familiar. 

________ _ _ _ _

His unease must have reached Herebeth. 

________ _ _ _ _

_What is wrong?_ The dragon asked quizzically. 

________ _ _ _ _

_They want to send us to another Weyr._

________ _ _ _ _

_Oh. Is it clean there?_

________ _ _ _ _

_I expect so._

________ _ _ _ _

_Are there herd beasts to eat?_

________ _ _ _ _

_Well…_ The feeding grounds there must be well stocked. _Probably._

________ _ _ _ _

_Then what is the problem?_

________ _ _ _ _

He sighed. Herebeth wouldn’t understand the complexities of human needs, so it was pointless trying to explain. Anyway, R’feem was talking again. 

________ _ _ _ _

‘We’ll be leaving tomorrow. They’re seriously under strength at Benden, plus no one there has any practical experience at fighting Thread. As to how long we’ll be there…’ he shrugged. ‘I have no more idea than you. Once they’re confident they don’t need any outside help then we’ll be back. And by then, Fort will be fully operational again. So at least none of us will have to worry about clean-up duties.’ 

________ _ _ _ _

A few faces brightened as that sank in. 

________ _ _ _ _

M’rell leaned over. ‘Can’t be too bad, can it? And at least he hasn’t mentioned the fish.’

________ _ _ _ _


	3. Benden Weyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fort riders and their dragons are transferred to Benden Weyr.

It felt too soon to be embarking on another move. Three days since they’d arrived and now they were off again. At least this time, the dragons weren’t laden with goods and passengers, although everyone was taking their personal possessions. D’gar watched as rolled up tapestries and small pieces of furniture were secured to some of the dragons, thankful that he’d never been one for accumulating lots of stuff. Like any Weyr, Benden was bound to have stores, so any additional bits and pieces he needed, he’d pick up from there.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Agarra from pressing a box full of food on him. He’d protested, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears.

‘I don’t trust that lot,’ she’d said. ‘Apparently they sent some riders over here to tidy up, but the state of our kitchens…’ she sniffed. ‘If that’s what they call clean, then you’d best be careful of anything you eat there.’

‘I’m sure their Headwoman is as competent as ours. Don’t be a worry-wherry.’ It was always slightly embarrassing when she fussed over him. Most children in the Weyrs were fostered, but as Agarra had already been fostering four when she found herself pregnant, she’d seen no problem with adding another child to her brood. It was small consolation that she acted in exactly the same way with his foster siblings.

So now he was fiddling about with the riding straps, trying to find the best way to secure the box. Imagine the embarrassment if it fell off during their descent and hit some poor unsuspecting person going about their business. Even worse, if it hit someone’s dragon. Eventually, he settled for bundling it up inside his sleeping furs, then strapping those across Herebeth’s back.  
_Is that comfortable_ , he asked.

Herebeth flexed his wings a few times. _It will do._

_Good. Let me know if anything feels like it’s slipping, won’t you._

It seemed an age before everything was stashed and they were finally ready to leave. It had been supposed to be an early start, but the sun was already above the rim of the Bowl by the time they all mounted up.

He took a long look around the Weyr that had been his home for all of his life, apart from a few months when he’d been seconded to Telgar. Workers were starting to fence off the beast pens. The lake was being dredged and mounds of silt had been piled to one side. When he came back maybe it would look more like the well-ordered place he’d been used to. ‘If you come back…’ said that little doubting voice in his head.

_Of course we’ll come back. Fort is our Weyr,_ Herebeth assured him.

V’chal waved them off; everyone was fairly sure Lilith would rise sometime today, or by tomorrow at the latest and it wasn’t the proper thing to send any dragon in that condition out of the Weyr. He’d be joining them later and would happily tell everyone the lurid details - well, as much of them as he could remember and what he couldn’t he’d doubtless make up.

At last, they took off, the Bowl growing smaller beneath dragon wings. The watch dragon bugled a farewell, then R’feem gave the signal and they jumped _between._

D’gar had seen Benden Weyr before, although it was several Turns ago. As weyrlings, they’d visited all the Weyrs and major Holds when they were learning to fly between. Back then, there hadn’t been much difference between Benden and Fort in terms of the number of dragons housed there.

The first thing he noticed this time around was that the air was noticeably cooler, even though it was afternoon and the sun was bright. Well, that figured, as Benden was a lot further north than Fort. Dragons were taking advantage of the fine weather to sun themselves on their weyr ledges. Benden had been designed to house up to five hundred dragons, but it was obvious that many of the weyrs were currently unoccupied.

They landed on a well cleared area - that was the other noticeable difference. Benden had remained a working weyr and had none of the signs of neglect and abandonment they’d all grown accustomed to since the Big Move. Everything looked well ordered and well cared for. A few young dragons were bathing in the lake, their riders diligently scrubbing their hide. Herebeth looked pointedly toward the feeding grounds as if sizing up his next meal already.

A tall woman holding a slate came over and started talking to R’feem. He introduced her as Manora, the Headwoman. She pointed across toward the eastern wall. ‘I’ve allocated you the third and fourth level weyrs on the eastern side. Once you’ve picked which one you want, please let me know, for my records.’

‘I’d prefer something lower down. And with stairs.’ M’rell said quietly, at D’gar’s side.

He smiled. M’rell was well known to the women of the Lower Cavern back at Fort. While it might be easy for him to get up to a higher weyr, for anyone without a dragon, stairs were useful if they wanted to nip in and out discreetly. ‘You’d best ask, then. Only don’t let the Headwoman know why or she’ll probably send you right up to the top.’

‘How about you?’

‘I’ll be happy if it’s clean and free of tunnel snakes.’

_Tunnel snakes are fine. They make a tasty snack._

He chuckled.

‘What did Herebeth say?’ M’rell asked.

‘Nothing about you. He doesn’t mind having a weyr infested with tunnel snakes. Says they’re tasty.’

‘You better watch he doesn’t get fat.’

_I am not fat._ Herebeth said indignantly.

M’rell continued. ‘Maybe that’s why he doesn’t bother to chase any greens these days. He’s more interested in eating than mating.’

‘Maybe,’ D’gar said, not wanting to get drawn onto that subject.

Fortunately the conversation was ended by R’feem beckoning them all closer. 'Manora has very generously offered us something to eat before dinner’s served as we’ve missed lunch due to the time difference. So I suggest you all get yourselves settled and unloaded as quickly as you can, then meet back down here.’

The weyr D’gar had been given was slightly smaller than what he’d been used to at Fort, although, in all fairness that had been a ‘double’ size with room for two dragons. He’d known that at some point, he’d be asked to move out when it was needed by another weyrmated pair, but so far, that hadn’t happened.

Even though it was empty, it had been recently swept and prepared for the new arrivals. The ledge was bathed in sunlight, much to Herebeth’s approval and the dragon’s couch had been well worn to a pleasingly rounded shape. As soon as D’gar unfastened his belongings and removed the riding straps, Herebeth checked it out, turning around several times to assess the comfort.

_It fits me very well,_ he pronounced, settling down with his head resting on his front legs. D’gar left him to it and pushed aside the heavy curtain that led into the sleeping chamber. It was sparsely furnished - just a bed and a chest for storing clothes - but that was all he needed. A couple of alcoves, cut into the rocky walls, provided some extra storage and a fresh basket of glows had been left there. A faded but clean rug had been placed beside the bed, so at least he wouldn’t have to step out onto cold stone with bare feet.

He put his box of food on one of the shelves and unrolled the sleeping furs, then sat on the edge of the bed and looked around his new home. He wondered how long it had been since someone last lived here. Could have been way back in the Interval, before the population at Benden had dwindled away. Whoever it had been though, they’d left no trace behind. Still, at least here there were no memories to haunt him so maybe this move, jarring as it seemed, was for the best.

He went back out, past a snoozing Herebeth, to the ledge from where there was a fine view of the Bowl. To his right, a sandy floor stretched as far as the feeding grounds and the lake. To the left was the wide entrance to the Hatching Grounds. Directly across the Bowl were countless other weyr openings, in shadow at this time of day. He realised his weyr must be almost directly over the kitchens. The smell of cooking reminded him how hungry he was so it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get back down. A couple of dragons and their riders were already gliding towards the ground, their wings gleaming in the sunlight.

‘Come on you. I need a lift,’ he said out loud, stroking the dragon’s shoulder.

Herebeth’s eyes whirled lazily. _So soon?_ He asked. _I was just getting comfortable._

Back at ground level, several of the Fort contingent had already gathered. ‘How’s your weyr?’ T’garrin asked.

‘A lot cleaner than my old one at Fort. Herebeth approves.’ He watched as his dragon flew back up, disappearing from view as he landed on the ledge. ‘How’s yours?’

‘Not bad. In fact, I think I’m just two along from you.’

As they chatted, a group of ten dragons; a bronze, two browns, three blues and four greens landed neatly in formation. As one of the riders dismounted and took off his jacket, D’gar recognised from his shoulder knots that he was from Telgar.

‘More reinforcements, it seems,’ he commented, noticing that the bronze was favouring a wing as if recently recovered from injury and two of the greens bore scars from old scorings.

‘Great opportunity to get rid of the odds and sods,’ T’garrin said.

‘Like us, you mean.’

‘Well, yes. Easier to send us off here than to try and slot us in to the other Wings back home.’

‘Good point. But I wonder how we’ll fit in here. I mean, all their dragons are huge.’ The modern dragons, being larger, would presumably have greater stamina, but at the expense of manoeuvrability.

‘I see what you mean,’ T’garrin said. ‘I’ve always considered Belloth quite a good size for a blue, but some of these Benden greens aren’t much smaller. And just look at that brown coming in now.’

They watched as a brown dragon - easily the size of bronze Piroth - landed on a nearby ledge.

‘Wonder why they’re that big? Back in our time, all the dragons were similar sized, no matter what Weyr they hatched at.’ D’gar pondered the question. ‘Maybe it’s due to inbreeding, with them being isolated for so long?’

‘Better not let them hear you say that. Someone might get offended.’

‘Yes, don’t wan’t to get up someone’s nose when we’ve only just arrived.’

Just then, Piroth landed neatly and R’feem slid down. ‘Is everyone here?’

‘All except J’rud. He’s probably still unloading his furniture.’

‘Oh well, he can find us when he gets down here. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I could really use a mug of klah right now.’ He led the way into the dining hall.

After a quick snack, they were given a tour of the Weyr. It was easy to see that it dated from the same era as Fort, when the ancients still had the tools to cut through solid rock and leave smooth walls. The bathing chambers were decently sized and the water seemed nice and hot. As they walked past the Senior Queen’s Weyr, Ramoth raised her head briefly, before resuming her afternoon nap.

After being shown around, they were left to their own devices. Some of the riders went back to their weyrs. D’gar considered doing the same, but there were comfortable places to sit in the dining hall and plenty of klah. Besides, Herebeth was sleeping and it didn’t seem fair to disturb him again.

The sun had slipped below the rim, leaving the floor of the Bowl in chilly shadow. Despite this, it still felt early in the day to D’gar, accustomed as he was to Fort time. It would take a day or so to get used to it, he knew and he’d probably find it difficult to get to sleep later. Still, at least there wasn’t another Fall for two days. Apparently, the Weyrleader had charts plotting out when and where Thread would fall. They’d never needed that before, but then each Weyr had become used to the regular patterns of Fall over their own areas. Until three days ago, Benden had been expecting to cover the whole continent alone. Impossible, of course, even without all the expansion of Holds and cultivated land during the Interval. Although, he supposed, this trick of being able to go _between_ time would have helped. But still, a dragon and rider could only fly for a certain number of hours in a day without getting exhausted. It set his head spinning just to think of the complexities of planning and organisation that would have been needed.

This was the first time since the Big Move - and during the hectic days before - that he’d really had a chance to think about _between_ timing. He knew that Lessa had worked out the reason why the five other Weyrs had been abandoned must be because they had come forward to her time, but of course no one in the past would have known that unless she'd gone back to tell them. So she’d figured out that she must have already done it, else the other Weyrs wouldn’t have been empty in the first place. It was all very complicated.

He poured a mug of klah and sat by the night hearth. How come no one had ever known dragons could go _between_ times before? Going _between_ places was one of those things that it didn’t do to analyse too much. Everyone knew it could be dangerous if you got it wrong; that had been drummed into them all as weyrlings. Flying on your dragon for the first time was exhilarating. Going _between_ for the first time was downright terrifying. Apart from the horror stories - everyone was told the old tale of a weyrling pair found embedded in solid rock - there was the undeniable fact that some just didn’t come back at all from their first attempt. And because they didn’t come back, no one knew exactly what they’d done wrong.

The importance of an accurate visual was drilled into them over and over again. But at the same time, it was stressed that you needed to pick something that wouldn’t change over time; trees can fall, mountains rarely do. Maybe the whole knack of travelling through time was to forget all you’d been taught and go for the specific. Hadn’t Lessa used a tapestry to guide her back to the Ruatha of four hundred Turns ago, when the Hold had been subtly different to the way it looked today? Still, she’d almost died doing it, not realising how long she’d be trapped in the blackness and utter cold of _between_ , unable to breathe. That was why they’d come forward in smaller jumps.

He sipped his klah and stared into the flames. Someone must have figured it out before. Maybe it was another of those things that the ancients had known about, but which had been lost in the mists of time, waiting for some brave soul to rediscover.

Another rider came over and poured himself a mug. He was young, probably just out of weyrlinghood. He had a shock of blond hair - almost bleached white - and was unusually tanned for so early in the spring.

‘Mind if I sit here?’ he asked.

‘No.’ He supposed it was no bad thing to get to know folk. Besides, this one was exceptionally good looking. Maybe a little on the youthful side, but then he wasn’t exactly ancient himself, even if he sometimes felt that way. 

The lad cupped his hands around the mug. ‘Can’t seem to get warm since we came back,’ he said. ‘Is it always this cold here?’

‘Don’t really know. I’m from Fort myself.’ It wasn’t that cold outside, surely.

‘Oh, you must be one of the transfers they were telling us about. I’m from Southern.’

‘What, Ista?’ This was confusing. His shoulder knot was in the Benden colours, as well as showing that his dragon was green. 

The lad laughed. ‘No, Southern Weyr. Well, not now, of course. We came back here three days ago. It’s been a strange couple of days.’

‘Tell me about it. So, where is Southern Weyr anyway? I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t have, back then. It’s on the Southern continent. And I was Searched from Southern Boll for Prideth’s clutch, so I’ve never been this far north before.’

Well, that explained why he felt so cold. ‘Southern Boll, eh? You should have been standing on our hatching sands.’

‘Except when I was Searched, Fort was deserted.’

‘Oh, yes. I forgot.’

‘So, you must have been fighting Thread for Turns and Turns.’

‘I’m not that old,’ he protested, hoping fervently that the youngster wasn’t seeing him as being too old to be attractive. ‘Five Turns, that’s all. Our Wingleader’s been at it for nearly twenty.’

‘Were you at Telgar the other day?’

He nodded. ‘I think everyone was.’

‘They wouldn’t let us do much except supply extra firestone.’

‘That’s a vital job. And a good way to introduce you to the fighting wings. We did it, while we were still weyrlings.’

‘I’m not a weyrling,’ he said firmly. ‘We finished our training months ago. We came back here expecting to fight, then you lot turned up, so we didn’t have to.’

‘Sorry about that. I’ll just nip back four hundred Turns if you like.’ And that just made you seem even older, he thought, even as he said it. 

The lad must have realised how ungracious he had sounded. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Just that we were all ready to do our bit and then they didn’t need us after all. I can’t wait to get into a Wing.’

The enthusiasm of youth. Once a few of his clutch mates had died, he’d sober up a bit. If he survived that long. ‘Don’t be too eager,’ D’gar warned, knowing it was useless even as he spoke. He would have to find out for himself, as they all had.

‘Oh, there you are,’ M’rell came over with T’garrin and J’rud. ‘And who’s this?’

D’gar realised he’d not even asked the lad’s name. ‘Er…’

‘H’rek, Rioth's rider,’ he supplied.

‘Chatting up the greens already, D’gar,’ J’rud commented. ‘Quick work.’

‘Can’t I just have a mug of klah with someone without you lot thinking there’s an ulterior motive?’

H’rek interrupted. ‘To be honest, I started the conversation. I thought he looked lonely.’

He was never going to live this down. ‘I was just sitting here thinking, that’s all.’

‘He does a lot of that,’ M’rell said to H’rek. ‘It gives him that darkly brooding look some folk find attractive.’

‘Oh. Shut up. This disreputable bunch are my wingmates,’ he said to H’rek. Then, so they’d get off the subject. ’Guess what, you lot. He’s from a Weyr in the Southern continent.’

Everyone looked surprised. ‘I always heard that place was barren,’ T’garrin said.

‘No, it’s really lush. Everything grows twice the size it does here. The fruit’s the tastiest I’ve ever eaten.’

‘Well, I suppose stuff would regrow after four hundred-odd Turns without Thread.’ Even places that were cleared as regularly as the fire heights tried to sprout greenery, so it stood to reason.

‘That’s how they explained it to us, too. It was strange at first though, living in wooden huts in the jungle, but we got used to it.’

‘Wooden huts!’ M’rell exclaimed. ‘What about Thread?’

‘That’s just it. We were all worried about that, what with everyone saying it was coming back and that was why so many dragons were going to be needed soon. But all the time we were there, no Thread fell. T’bor - that’s our Weyrleader - said we didn’t need to bother about it. And it set me thinking…’

‘Oh no, not another one who thinks all the time,’ T’garrin groaned.

H’rek looked uncertain. ‘It’s probably nothing.’

‘Ignore them,’ D’gar said. ‘Say what you were going to.’

‘It might sound stupid, but I’m fairly sure they must have sent us back in time…’ he paused.

‘Well, go on.’

‘I mean, all of you came forward from the past, didn’t you? So that’s proof dragons can travel through time as well as from place to place. So I reckon they sent us back a few Turns, out of harm’s way. Give our dragons a chance to mature so we’d be ready to come back and fight Thread.’

‘What do your clutchmates think of your theory?’

He grimaced. ‘That’s the trouble. Most of them don’t think at all.’

D’gar smiled, looking around at the others. ‘I know the feeling,’ he said, then ducked as M’rell aimed a friendly blow at his head.

‘Does it really matter anyway?’ J’rud commented. ‘We’re all here now. Just got to make the best of it. Anyway, where are your clutchmates?’

‘They’re out on patrol, learning the local landmarks.’

‘So what did you do, to be left behind?’ T’garrin asked.

D’gar noticed the lad looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Isn’t that his business?’ he protested.

‘No. It’s fine,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s Rioth. We’re not allowed out of the Weyr at the moment. She’s due to rise soon.’

He didn’t sound as if he was looking forward to it, D’gar thought.

J’rud smiled. ‘She’ll have plenty of choice, then. There’s dragons here from all over Pern.’

‘While we were looking around another ten arrived from Ista. And four from High Reaches,’ M’rell said.

‘You’d have thought they could spare more than that.’ T’garrin looked over his shoulder to check none of them were around. ‘They didn’t lose as many as we did, from what I’ve heard.’

‘They’ve never been ones to mix much, though.’

‘Yes and no one wants to transfer there. Too sharding cold.’ J’rud shivered dramatically.

‘Colder than here?’ H’rek asked.

‘Much. They have snow nine months out of every Turn. You ever heard the old joke?’

‘Of course he hasn’t,’ D’gar put in. ‘But I’m sure you’ll tell him.’

J’rud sat on the bench. ‘Right. Why do riders from High Reaches go _between_?’

H’rek shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘To get warm.’ He laughed. ‘Get it? To get warm.’

T’garrin rolled his eyes. ‘That one’s as old as the hills.’

A few drudges had emerged from the kitchens to wipe down tables. More people were starting to come in to the dining hall, among them a large group of young and suntanned riders.  
H’rek waved to them. ‘They’re my clutchmates. We usually sit over there.’ He pointed to the far corner. ‘Why don’t you join us? There’s always a few spaces at that end.’

‘Might as well.’ At least that way, he’d be able to spend some more time in H’rek’s company. Just talking with him had made D’gar feel as if a piece of his heart had begun to thaw after a long cold spell. Natural caution mixed with painful experience was warning him that he should be careful. He had, after all, come here to fight Thread and it was entirely possible that neither he nor H’rek would be around for long enough to get to know each other better, but if they did, would that be so wrong? 

The food was tasty and plentiful. There were some subtle differences in flavour from what he had been used to. Maybe it was down to the different herbs that grew in these parts, or the way recipes had changed through the Turns. As he ate, D’gar noticed the way people had grouped themselves; the Southern and Fort riders here, with the ones who had arrived too late spilling over to the next table. Those had been joined by others from Telgar and Ista. Next came another table filled with more Southern riders; from the clutch before his, H’rek explained. It was obvious how, despite the differences in age and origins, all those who weren’t regular Benden riders had sat together. Presumably that would change over the next few days as they were allocated places in the Benden Wings. He looked around the room, wondering where he’d end up and whether he’d get on as well with his new wingmates as with the ones he had now.

‘I still can’t get used to this many people in one place,’ H’rek said. ‘In Southern you knew everyone. Here, it’s like everyone’s looking at you…’

‘Well, that’s hardly surprising. You’re not bad to look at.’ He was trying to keep the conversation light, but that was bordering on flirtatious. And if H’rek’s green was that close to rising, he’d be sensitive to nuances. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’ 

‘Everyone tries it on when you’re wearing these.’ He pointed to his shoulder knots with the unmistakeable green braid. ‘But as it’s you, I don’t mind.’ 

Some green riders, like V’chal, flirted any chance they had. H’rek obviously wasn’t that type; they’d had a perfectly normal conversation when he’d first shown up. However, with that comment, it seemed as if he might be feeling the same sense of attraction. Pity really that his dragon was so close to rising. D’gar would rather take it slowly and get to know him properly before being caught up in a mating flight. If, indeed, Herebeth deigned to get himself involved at all. 

_Is there something I should know about going on?_

Trust his dragon to tune in now. _How do you feel about a mating flight? Soon, I think._

_What’s the dragon like?_

_A Benden green. Her name’s Rioth. I’ll find out more._

‘Has Rioth risen many times before?’ D’gar asked, trying to sound casual.

‘Just the once.’ He looked down at his food as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite.

He definitely seemed nervous about it. ‘Well, she might favour the same dragon again.’

‘I hope not. It was really embarrassing last time. Afterwards, I mean. Not for Rioth, obviously.’

‘Oh.’ Not a good experience, then. D’gar desperately thought of something that might reassure the lad. ‘If there’s anyone you particularly like, that can sometimes make a difference too.’

‘Really?’ There was a faint hope in his voice. ‘It was all a bit… overwhelming before.’

‘Mating flights usually are.’

‘No one really said anything about what happened.’ He paused. ‘I’m not Weyrbred, so I didn’t know… I mean, I saw a few of the greens from Ramoth’s clutch rise but I never realised how out of control it would all be.’ 

‘Didn’t your Weyrlingmaster give you “the chat”?’

From the blank look on his face, obviously not. ‘We had training from a few different people but it was mostly about flying and looking after our dragons properly.’

That didn’t sound good. Back when he’d been a weyrling, by the time the first of their clutch was mature enough to rise they’d all been aware of what it would entail. No one expected a young green rider to go into a mating flight without some kind of previous sexual experience. A sudden thought struck him. ‘I’ve got no right to ask this, I know,’ he said, dropping his voice slightly. ‘But when Rioth rose before, had you… was it your first time too?’

The absence of an answer told him everything. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘I’m glad you did. Makes me feel like someone’s thinking about me.’

‘I think too much, according to my wing mates.’

‘Me too.’

They had so much in common, despite having been born in different times. D’gar reached out across the table and touched H’rek’s hand. Just to let him know he cared, really, except that when H’rek met his eyes it was one of those moments when you just know where this is going to end up. Physical attraction was only one aspect of what he knew he was starting to feel. And the idea of letting himself fall for anyone again was almost as frightening as the first time he’d ridden Herebeth _between._

‘You two seem to be getting on very well.’ J’rud leaned across the table ‘Think we should put marks on Herebeth catching Rioth?’

’That’s up to Herebeth, isn’t it?’

‘Do you think he might?’ H’rek sounded all too hopeful.

‘Wherries might sing. Herebeth’s not risen for any green for a long time.’ J’rud said lightly. ‘Mind you, if his rider’s decided to start living again, who knows what could happen. Might even be in with a chance myself.’

‘It’ll be a warm night _between_ before that happens.’ Suddenly, the food had lost its flavour. This was getting too much. He needed to get away, to give himself some time to think about the consequences, ‘I’ve had enough,’ he said, getting up from the table.

Before anyone had a chance to call him back, he walked out of the dining hall into the gathering dusk. On the weyr ledges, dragons eyes glowed like jewels.

_I’m finished down here. Can you give me a lift back up to the weyr?_

_Of course._

‘Wait!’ H’rek had followed him. ‘Is Herebeth going to chase Rioth?’

He sounded desperate and it was that which made D’gar stop. ‘Sorry. This is all happening too fast. I don’t want to make any promises.’

‘But I thought you cared. No one else seems to.’

‘Listen, lad. The future of Pern’s been at stake over the past few days. Do you really think anyone up there…’ and he made a vague gesture towards the Queen’s Weyr, ‘Would have had the time to be bothered about the fate of one weyrling green rider.’

H’rek grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around so they were face to face. He was surprisingly strong considering his youth and slender build. ‘I’m not a weyrling. And I thought you felt the same way as I do. What’s changed?’

D’gar sighed. ‘Nothing. But even if Herebeth does chase Rioth there’s no guarantee he’ll catch her. You do know that, don’t you?’

The brown dragon landed neatly to one side, furling his wings. His eyes whirled quizzically. _Am I carrying the two of you?_

_No. Just me._

‘I’m going up to my weyr now. You should probably go back inside and join your friends.’ He turned away. Herebeth extended a foreleg and he vaulted up.

_The young one seems distressed._

_He’s fine. Let’s go._

They landed back on the ledge. D’gar couldn’t help himself looking back down to the dining hall entrance, where H’rek was still standing all alone. Although he couldn’t be sure, at that distance, he felt H’rek’s eyes on him.

_Now you are troubled. What is wrong?_

_I care about what might happen to him._ He leaned against the comforting bulk of Herebeth’s flank. _His dragon’s going to rise and he’s scared. I don’t want to care about him. I’m scared too._

A young green dragon launched herself from a ledge across the Bowl, gliding down gracefully. Even in the gathering darkness her hide was a vivid hue; the colour of new leaves in springtime. It had to be Rioth. Herebeth’s eyes followed her all the way down.

_I miss Zemianth. You miss your mate. But they are gone. We are not._

He was right. _Will you chase Rioth when she rises?_

_If you care about her rider, then of course I will._

Sometimes, he reflected, dragons had more sense than people.


	4. Rioth's Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rioth rises to mate.

D’gar got out of bed just after dawn. Sleep had eluded him for most of the night and it wasn’t just down to the time difference between Fort and Benden. In his mind, he’d been going over the many ways yesterday might have ended better. If he’d not asked all those questions, then H’rek would never have assumed there was an easy fix to his problems. Face it, the whole mess was his own fault. And snapping J’rud’s head off like that was unforgivable. He’d only been joking around, the way he always did and he deserved an apology. Good job Herebeth’s not a green, he thought, otherwise people would be accusing me of being proddy. 

As he dressed, he wondered if H’rek had also been lying awake in nervous anticipation of Rioth’s rising, cursing the interfering rider who’d first promised to help and then seemingly abandoned him. 

_You should have brought him here,_ Herebeth commented. _Then you could have been awake together._

_Are you matchmaking, you big beast?_

_Only as much as you are for me._

Still, as was often the case, his dragon was right. If they’d spent the night together, then at least he could have made sure H’rek had some experience of gentle, thoughtful sex before he had to face a mating flight. Because there was no way anyone could be certain of the outcome. Although H’rek clearly wanted it to be him, the man he’d actually end up with depended on the dragons’ preference and a certain degree of luck. Once they were in the air, anything could happen and the riders had no choice but to go along with it. 

He went out past Herebeth, comfortably curled on his couch, to check the weather. The day had dawned with low, grey cloud giving a diffuse quality to the light. As the sun rose, it would probably burn off; at least that was how such days tended to progress at Fort. Here, so much further north, his weather sense might be totally wrong. 

The Bowl was deserted at this early hour. Herdbeasts in the feeding pens slumbered undisturbed. The lake’s surface was as smooth as a mirror. Up by the Star Stones, a blue dragon kept watch. His rider must be looking forward to the change of shift and a warming mug of klah. 

Thinking about it, that sounded like a good idea. 

_When you’re ready, if you could drop me off by the dining hall._

_Very well._ Herebeth stood and gave himself a shake. _Then I will go and sit on the heights for a while. And keep my eyes open for green dragons._

_Just the one, mind._

As he’d expected, the dining hall was deserted so early in the day. There were some slightly dried up meat rolls on a tray by the night hearth, but a couple of those went down well enough with a mug of klah. Now he’d got down here he started to feel tired. It would be all too easy to stretch out on the bench in front of the hearth and fall asleep. If he was back home, at Fort, he might just do that, but he was here, in Benden and he didn’t want to give his own Weyr a bad name by letting anyone see him like that. Other early risers might assume he’d drunk so much the previous night he couldn’t make it back to his own weyr. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

‘Do you always get up this early?’ 

A familiar voice, one that he’d rather not have to face just yet. ‘No. Do you?’ 

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ 

‘Makes two of us, then.’ It was a short answer, but he didn’t feel like saying any more right now. 

‘I spent most of the night wondering why you just left like that. I thought we were getting on. Was it something that other rider said? Was it me?’ 

He sighed. ‘It’s complicated. But it’s not your fault.’ 

There was a long pause during which H’rek scraped his boot against the floor. 

D’gar felt the need to say something to fill the silence. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said some of those things.’ He was older and supposedly wiser, after all. 

_Rioth is flying down to the feeding ground. She is very bright._

Experienced green riders became so attuned to their dragon’s cycle and moods that they usually had sufficient warning to get themselves prepared. ‘How’s Rioth?’ he asked, wondering if that had been the case for H’rek. 

H’rek’s eyes went vacant for a moment, then a look of panic came over him. ‘She’s going to rise. Right now!’ 

Evidently not, then. ’Stay calm. She’s only just got to the feeding ground.’ 

‘How do you know?’ 

‘Herebeth’s watching.’ 

‘So does that mean…?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

H’rek gave him a look that wrenched at his insides. He hoped fervently that he wasn’t condemning Herebeth to certain failure and H’rek to disappointment. 

They ran out into the Bowl. Rioth had already killed a herdbeast and up on the rim, several more dragons had joined Herebeth; three blues, two more browns and even a bronze. The others were Benden hatched, large and powerful. All of them were waiting expectantly. 

‘Don’t let her gorge. Blood only,’ he said to H’rek. ‘That way she’ll fly high and strong.’ 

‘I don’t know if I can do this.’ He looked frightened. ‘Last time I nearly lost her.’ 

D’gar grabbed his arms. ‘Look at me.’ 

H’rek did. 

‘Take a deep breath. Focus. You’ll be all right.’ He wished he was as confident as he was trying to sound. ‘Make her blood her kill. I’ll take care of you.’ 

H’rek gave a little nod, then pulled away from him to watch Rioth. 

D’gar realised that in this unfamiliar Weyr, he didn’t even know where to go. ‘Where's the flight cave?’ he asked a couple of riders who seemed to be purposefully heading somewhere.   
‘Over there.’ One rider pointed toward a ground level weyr. 

The other shaded his eyes and looked up as if assessing the competition. ‘Is that a blue up there who’s rolled in mud or something? Looks awfully small for a brown.’ 

D’gar didn’t think he was trying to be deliberately offensive but maybe that was just giving him the benefit of the doubt. Herebeth was built very differently to the modern dragons; stockier and more compact, with a shorter wingspan. ‘That’s my dragon, Herebeth. And yes, he is a brown.’ 

The other rider frowned. ‘Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I shouldn’t think he’s got much chance against the competition today.’ 

D’gar glanced toward H’rek, hoping he’d not heard that, but H’rek was staring across to the feeding grounds. His gaze was blank as if he was already linked with his dragon and seeing through her eyes rather than his own. D’gar put a hand on his arm, carefully, so as not to startle him. ‘She’ll be fine, don’t worry. You’re doing well.’ 

H’rek nodded. ‘I know.’ Talking seemed to have become difficult for him. 

Rioth lifted her head from the throat of the herdbeast, her muzzle dripping red. She rose onto her hind legs, bugling a challenge to her prospective suitors. Then, with a mighty leap, she was airborne, ascending rapidly before veering eastwards. The male dragons took off in pursuit. 

D’gar felt the first spike of dragonlust as Herebeth’s consciousness impinged upon his own. For now, he held it off. While every rider expected to be consumed by their dragon’s emotional state at such times, he’d found that some - like himself - could remain aware and in control for longer than others. 

‘Come on.’ He steered H’rek toward the cave. Other riders were already converging on its maw. As his own eyes conveyed that information to his mind, he was also seeing through Herebeth’s eyes. Rioth was climbing higher over the snowy peaks. Her potential mates were - so far - keeping pace, but so close together that there was danger of collision. The bronze had surged ahead and just behind him a blue and a brown vied for second place. Herebeth broke from the pack, sacrificing nearness for clean air above them all. It was a tactic that had won him a few mating flights in the past. It had also lost a few. 

‘She’s leading them a merry dance so far,’ he commented, hoping H’rek could hear him through it all. ‘Now just concentrate and stay with her.’ 

The flight cave was dimly lit and almost empty; things could get violent sometimes and there was no point in having furniture that might get smashed. A curtain was pulled across the entrance, as a concession to privacy. Just beyond that was the inevitable bed, looking as if it had had some recent rough use. Not that anyone would care, when it came to needing it. The jar of oil beside the bed had been spilled at some point, making a slippery puddle on the floor. He guided H’rek around that and sat him down on the edge of the saggy mattress, then took his place in the semi-circle of riders. A couple of them he recognised as H’rek’s clutchmates; he didn’t know if it was one of their dragons that had flown Rioth before. The solitary bronze rider was much older than everyone else; a tall, powerfully built man. He stood slightly off to one side as if wishing to distance himself from the common crowd. But whatever their colour, dragons had needs and if they decided to fly you had to go along with it. 

Now that there was nothing else to be done, D’gar stopped trying to hold back from linking fully with his dragon. The rising sun cast jagged shadows on the rocky ground far below. Rioth shone like a beacon, illumined by that same golden light. She was still well ahead of the pack, who were now several dragons' lengths below Herebeth. The thin, cold air swept past his wings as he strove to close the distance between himself and the green dragon. 

The bronze was still flying well, although even his superior strength didn’t guarantee that he’d be the one to catch her. Greens could out manoeuvre a bronze any day, if they wanted to. Still, at the moment, she was playing with her suitors, trying out their mettle to see who tired first. Although she wouldn’t be laying eggs like a gold, instinct still led her to favour the most persistent and clever dragon. 

H’rek raised his head and looked over the riders surrounding him. For a moment, his gaze locked with D’gar, as if looking for support or encouragement. 

‘Stay with her,’ D’gar reminded him. ‘I’m right here.’ 

H’rek nodded briefly as if he’d heard, then shut his eyes. 

Rioth glanced back, as if assessing them all, then abruptly changed her tactics. Rather than continuing to fly straight ahead, she went first left, then right, dipping and diving. Another manoeuvre had her changing direction so quickly that the bronze, too large and unwieldy for such a tight turn, lost his place to a brown. Rioth continued with her aerobatic games until the wings of two blues in the pack below fouled briefly. One of them turned aside, losing speed and altitude. Even if he tried his best, he’d never be able to make up that amount of lost ground. 

In the cave far below, his rider shook his head sadly. D’gar barely registered him leaving, caught up as he was in the excitement of the flight. 

Now the bronze was trying to get back past the brown, using his bulk and weight to shove the other dragon aside. All that happened was that both of them lost their place directly behind Rioth to another blue, who was more able to keep up with her wild sky dance. Herebeth was still above them all, waiting for his moment. 

The blue made a sudden surge, trying to get a grip of Rioth’s tail. The blue’s rider was leaning over H’rek, attempting to get his shirt off. Rioth lashed her tail across the other dragon’s muzzle, just as H’rek pushed his rider forcefully away. The man staggered, slipped on the greasy patch of floor and fell. Everyone jumped back to avoid him. 

Suddenly the bronze powered past his rivals, using all of his strength in a last-ditch attempt to catch up with the nimble green. His rider stepped forward, blocking everyone’s access to H’rek and almost daring anybody else to make a move against him. His hand reached out to caress H’rek’s face. 

D’gar saw H’rek cringe back against the overbearing presence of the older man. Then in the next breath, Rioth spun right, too tightly for the bronze to follow, using a green’s natural agility to its best effect. It also placed her directly below Herebeth, with nothing between them. This was it! He took his chance, diving down rapidly. The bronze almost stalled at the unexpected appearance of a dragon he’d not even noticed up until that point. Two others had to swerve to avoid piling into him and they all fell away. 

D’gar shoved the bronze rider aside, uncaring of seniority or protocol in that moment. He pushed H’rek down onto the bed. Herebeth caught Rioth’s wing joints, their tails entwining as she succumbed to her overwhelming desire. Dragonlust wiped away conscious thought as they joined, falling through the air in glorious consummation. 

Mating flights were always difficult. No matter how much you wanted to stay in control, the urgency of the dragons’ union kept taking over. Their overwhelming need was to finish before they fell too close to the ground for safety. Your mind denied the reality of a bed placed on solid ground and of a human body under your own. D’gar tried to keep the rational part of his brain working as he fought against the urge to simply do what Herebeth was doing to Rioth as fast as possible. H’rek seemed far less aware of what was happening to him, his mind fully locked with Rioth’s. His eyes were wide open but it was clear that he wasn’t seeing his actual surroundings. 

D’gar grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little. ‘H’rek. Come on. Look at me.’ 

The eyes focused. An all too human panic showed there. ‘Can’t lose her,’ he managed to say. 

‘You won’t. Trust me.’ Talking, he’d found, was one way to remain detached. Well, as detached as you could be under the circumstances. He drew on all his experience and memories of other flights, other times, to try and be as slow and careful as H’rek needed him to be. ‘Just breathe. Try to relax.’ 

H’rek held him tightly as bodies entwined, dragon and human united in a single-minded and overwhelming urge. The sensation of air rushing past his wings as Herebeth slowed their descent felt more real than the dimly lit weyr, the bed, naked skin and heat. ‘We’ve got you.’ 

Their glorious fall went on; a glide through the air, buoyed by strong wings. The emotional overspill rose to a fierce intensity as the dragons’ ecstasy reached a crescendo. You couldn’t escape that link, not at such a moment. D’gar gave up trying to hold back any longer. H’rek arched his back and moaned, echoing Rioth’s passion, sending both of them over the edge. 

The other riders had long since left. D’gar became aware that he was lying in a sweaty tangle with H’rek. His memory of the flight was already becoming blurred, like a dream that eludes recollection after you wake. Human thoughts and fears surged back. He wished that he’d not been so stupid the night before and had taken H’rek back to his weyr. Had time to do things properly before all this. But you didn’t, said the critical voice in his head. You’ve only got yourself to blame if it’s all gone wrong. The dragons had landed safely on a rocky outcrop and were happily nuzzling each other, so all was well with them, at least. They’d rest a while before the long flight back to the weyr. 

He turned slightly, propping himself up on one arm. ‘Are you all right?’ 

H’rek nodded. He still seemed slightly dazed. 

D’gar was uncertain what he should do next. Just getting dressed and leaving would be thoughtless, although that was exactly what some riders did, especially if their usual preference outside a mating flight was for women. On the other hand, he had no wish to force his company on someone who might want to be left alone at this point. 

‘Do you… want me to go?’ he asked hesitantly. 

H’rek shook his head. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Hold me.’ 

They lay like that for what seemed like a very long time, arms wrapped around each other. D’gar could feel the heat of H’rek’s body, hear his breathing. All he wanted to do was to hug, stroke, kiss. It was only dragonlust, he knew and when it had passed, he didn’t want to be disgusted with himself for having taken advantage of the lad in this state. If the two of them were weyrmates, now would be the time for having good sex; while the dragon roused emotions were still strong, but you had regained enough awareness to know what you were doing. Plus, no one expected any pair to be fit for ordinary duties for several hours after a flight, so you might as well enjoy the time together. 

‘Aren’t we supposed to… you know?’ H’rek asked. ‘Have another round.’ 

‘It happens,’ D’gar said, trying to sound non-committal. ‘If that’s what folk want to do.’ 

‘I want to. So do you.’ 

True enough. That was a side effect of mating flights he could do without right now; they always reduced the amount of time you needed to recover. ‘It’s just dragonlust.’ 

‘Does that matter?’ 

‘it does to me. It will to you too in a couple of hours.’ Talking was good. It diverted the attention from thinking about other things you’d rather be doing. 

He sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ Then after a short pause, ‘So what happened on your first mating flight?’ 

’The first dragon Herebeth managed to catch was S'brin's Zemianth. We'd been together before we even Impressed. Then, with young dragons, we had to, well… not do anything until they were grown enough for it not to affect them.’ When the Weyrlingmaster had finally granted them permission they’d made up for lost time every way they could think of. ‘Anyway, by the time of that flight, we’d had plenty of experience.’ 

‘Who’s S’brin?’ 

Should have known he’d ask that. ’He was my weyrmate.’ 

H’rek said nothing for a few moments, obviously taking in this new information. ’So that explains why you were so reluctant to get involved with me. Why didn’t he come to Benden as well?’ 

‘Because he’s dead.’ 

‘Oh.’ 

A few Turns, or even months into the Pass, he’d be used to that kind of answer. You’d sympathise, then move on without even feeling awkward about it. 

‘What happened to him?’ H’rek asked after a while. 

‘Threadfall.’ 

‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’ 

‘You weren’t to know. Anyway, in our line of work, it’s a fact of life. No matter how good you think you are, or how quick your dragon is, all it takes is one bad Fall and you’re history.’ 

H’rek seemed to be mulling over that for a while. ‘So, what you’re saying is that either of us might not be here after tomorrow’s Fall.’ 

‘Exactly.’ He had to keep reminding himself that it was just the beginning of the Pass in this new time. It wasn’t like when he’d been growing up; seeing the casualties come in after every Fall, hearing the keen of dragons when one of their own went between. They had no idea, yet, how bad it could be. 

‘In that case, shouldn’t we take any opportunities we can?’ H’rek smiled slowly and gazed into his eyes. ‘I mean, it would be a shame if I died without having had sex I can actually remember, don’t you think?’ 

Putting it like that, he had a point. ‘You’re too sharding persistent, you know that?’ 

Then H’rek pulled him closer for a kiss and he stopped thinking for quite some time. 


	5. The New Wingsecond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar considers the implications of the mating flight and meets his new wingmates.

It was almost lunch time when they finally got to the dining hall. They’d dozed off for a while, exhausted by the flight and its aftermath combined with not having had much sleep the previous night. Then they’d been distracted by the dragons returning. Herebeth caught a wherry that he shared rather messily with Rioth. All in all, it had been a relaxing way to spend a morning and D’gar felt very mellow.

As they walked in, he spotted several of the other Fort riders sitting around a table. ‘Here goes,’ he said softly to H’rek. He’d already warned him that they would be in for some good-natured teasing and ribald comments once their flight became common knowledge. There were cheers and whistles as they were spotted.

‘You might have told us what you were up to,’ M’rell said, shifting up the bench to make room.

‘Don’t think anyone much was about when Rioth rose,’ he commented.

‘And you, lad.’ M’rell addressed H’rek. ‘Next time, ask your dragon not to make such a racket blooding her kill first thing. It woke me up.’

‘Sorry,’ H’rek muttered although he didn’t look particularly contrite.

‘Take no notice of them,’ D’gar said. ‘As if you’ve any say when your dragon decides it’s time.’

‘Ooh, aren’t we being protective?’ That was from V’chal, who had arrived to join the rest of the Wing.

‘When did you get here?’

‘Just this morning. Lilith rose yesterday afternoon.’ He had a good look at H’rek, then turned back to D’gar. ‘I had an amazing flight. How about you and the weyrling?’

‘I’m not a weyrling,’ H’rek corrected. ‘As for the flight, Rioth’s totally besotted with Herebeth.’ He glanced at D’gar and gave him a wink. ‘He wasn’t bad either.'

D’gar just shrugged and smiled. The other riders banged the table and shouted their approval.

H’rek scanned the dining hall. ‘Er, does anyone know where my clutchmates have got to?’

‘Bagging up firestone for tomorrow, I heard,’ T’garrin said. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry to join them. A morning flight always means a day off.’

He looked unsure. ‘Maybe it does in your Weyr, but I’m not sure if that applies here.’

‘What used to happen in Southern?’ D’gar asked him.

‘Well, once the dragons got back, we just carried on with the usual lessons or drills. It was the best way to avoid Kylara.’

‘Who?’

H’rek sighed. ‘Prideth’s rider. She was always there trying to… er, console the losing riders. Whether they wanted it or not.’

‘Sounds like the kind of woman I wouldn’t mind meeting,’ M’rell joked.

‘Don’t be daft. If she’s a gold rider, she wouldn’t want anything to do with the likes of you.’ M’rell’s optimism regarding women who might fall for his charms never failed to amuse D’gar.

‘She was always after F’nor and he rides a brown,’ H’rek put in.

‘Well, there you go, boys. I might be in with a chance.’

‘Not once she finds out you’re four hundred Turns old,’ J’rud added, then ducked as M’rell threw a bread roll at him.

‘What’s that about?’ D’gar was puzzled.

‘Oh, that was the big joke this morning at breakfast,’ T’garrin said. ‘Someone started it off by saying how our dragons must have shrunk during four hundred Turns _between_. Then a few other wags thought up similar comments. Like, “you’re not looking bad for four hundred Turns.” It was funny at first, but when you’ve heard the same thing a few times it really gets on your nerves.’

‘Still, the joke’s on them now, if a four hundred Turn old dragon can catch one of their greens.’ V’chal smirked. ‘Mind you, who’d have thought the first one of us to get in there would be D’gar. I thought Herebeth wasn’t interested anymore.’

D’gar knew he was trying to stir things up, so just shrugged in a casual manner. ‘Dragons do what they want, when they want.’

‘Look lively, everyone,’ M’rell hissed. ‘R’feem’s on the way over and he doesn’t look too pleased.’

‘Does he ever?’ V’chal commented, although he took his feet off the bench and sat up straight.

‘I see you lot are keeping yourselves busy,’ the Wingleader said, sitting down and glancing around the table. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked, spotting H’rek.

V’chal smirked. ‘Best ask D’gar about that, sir.’

R’feem glared at him. ‘Well?’

‘My dragon flew his this morning,’ D’gar muttered.

‘Oh, so it was you. You’ve gone and put the dragon among the wherries, my lad. I’ve just spent most of the morning in a meeting with the Benden Wingleaders, discussing wing placements and the like. Except one particular bronze rider had a bone to pick about mating flight etiquette. There wouldn’t have been a bronze in that flight, would there?’

‘Er, yes sir. There was.’

‘Congratulations, then. You punched the former Weyrleader of Benden.’

Before D’gar had a chance to think of a reply, H’rek sprang to his defence. ‘It wasn’t D’gar’s fault. Everyone knows that sort of thing can happen in a flight.’

R’feem nodded. ‘That’s just what I said to them. And as for stopping our dragons rising, that’s easier said than done especially when there are so many greens in a Weyr.’ He sighed. ‘No, the real problem is that they don’t know where to fit us in and this morning’s antics just complicated matters.’

‘How?’ M’rell asked. ‘I mean, all it’s done is show that our so-called four hundred Turn old dragons are capable of catching theirs.’

‘Exactly. They’d been presuming that due to the differences in size there would be issues mixing up Benden dragons with ours in a Wing. Concerns were raised about the speed and stamina of our dragons and whether it might be over taxing them to expect them to keep up. Then you,’ and he pointed at D’gar, ‘proved everyone wrong on both counts. So much for theories, eh?’

‘We didn’t do too badly in the past fighting Thread either,’ J’rud said. ‘I mean, they asked for our help, didn’t they?’

‘That’s not the issue. They can’t deny we have practical experience they don’t. But when a Weyr’s been isolated as long as they have… I think that now we’re here some of them are finding it hard to cope with the fact it’s not just Benden standing alone any more. They need us to fill in the gaps until they can breed more dragons, but I gather they’d rather keep us at arm’s length, so to speak.’

V’chal looked pointedly at D’gar, ‘Except some of us have got quite a lot closer than that already.’

There were a few sniggers around the table. D’gar hoped that he wasn’t blushing like a weyrling.

R’feem continued. ’Anyway, we got it settled in the end. None of us will be flying in the Benden Wings.’

‘So why are we here, then?’ T’garrin asked, frowning.

‘Us odds and sods from the five Weyrs will be making up two new Wings. I’ll be leading one…’ There were a few cheers at that. ‘And W’lir from Telgar the other. So, all of us from Fort will be sticking together with the addition of the High Reaches riders and seven from Igen. That’ll make, let’s see… three bronzes including Piroth, six browns, seven blues and ten greens. Eight blues once Jekkoth’s fit to go between again.’

D’gar did some quick calculations. That would give an average wing strength of around eighteen, taking into account that the smaller dragons could only manage half a Fall before they tired. Well, it was better than they’d had towards the end of the last Pass, at any rate.

‘Well, now that’s settled, I’ve made a decision about appointing Wingseconds. Now I know that M’rell and D’gar were unofficially filling in the role for the last couple of Falls, but there’s a couple of riders from the other Weyrs I’ve had to take into consideration. One of them’s even been a Wingleader. So the new Wingseconds will be F’drun and bronze Ryth from High Reaches and B’lin with brown Ondiath from Igen.’

‘It must have been the fish,’ M’rell mouthed across the table. D’gar shrugged. He was a little disappointed, but to be honest, he hadn’t expected to become Wingsecond any time soon. If he was Wingleader, he’d not want to appoint someone as - unstable - as he’d been since S’brin died. Besides, for R’feem to choose Fort riders over others with more experience could be seen as favouritism and might cause problems.

‘Right. So, after we’ve had something to eat, we’ll be going out to overfly the area we’ll be covering tomorrow. It’ll be a chance for you all to familiarise yourself with your new wingmates and I can work out the best positions for you to fly in. D’gar…’

He looked up. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Is Herebeth fit to fly this afternoon?’

_Feel like leaving your sweet green dragon this afternoon for drills?_ he sent.

_If I must._

_Not tired you out, then?_

_It was not a long flight. I am not as tired as after a Fall._

‘He says he’s fine.’

‘Good. Anyone got any questions?’

As he started to fend off a few queries from some of the other riders, V’chal leaned across to speak to H’rek. ‘So, tell me some more about your flight. I want to know everything.’

H’rek looked a bit unsure about what he should do, so D’gar helped him out. ‘V’chal is always like this. You don’t have to say anything unless you want to. Although I’m sure he’ll let us all in on the details of what happened when Lilith rose whether we want to hear it or not.’

V’chal changed his focus to D’gar. ‘Just interested to know how you measured up,’ he said smoothly. ’S’brin used to say you were always good for another couple of goes after a flight.’

D’gar was fairly sure S’brin had never said anything of the sort. He’d not been over fond of V’chal and had known that anything you said to him would be round the Weyr in no time. H’rek definitely looked embarrassed now. ‘Leave it out. He’s Holdbred.’

‘Yes, but he’s a green rider now.’

‘It’s all right. I can handle this,’ H’rek said confidently.

D’gar left them leaning together and talking softly as he went up to fetch some food. M’rell joined him, picking up two bowls from the stacked pile and throwing one to him. He caught it deftly.

‘Just testing your reflexes. Thought you might be a bit tired after this morning.’

‘Not you as well.’

M’rell ladled some stew into his bowl. ‘You like him, don’t you? You two seemed to be getting along pretty well yesterday evening.’

‘It was just a mating flight.’ D’gar helped himself to a portion.

‘Really? Come on. I’ve known you too long. Your dragon doesn’t fly unless your heart’s in it too.’

There was a certain amount of truth in that. ‘He’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?’

‘We’re hardly ancient ourselves, are we? You’re what, twenty-three now? And he’s got to be in his late teens.

‘Just seems a lot younger, I suppose.’ Maybe it was not having fought Thread yet that gave that impression. Or, who knows, perhaps having been born into this modern age made a difference. ‘Joking aside, sometimes I feel four hundred Turns old.’

M’rell picked up a few slices of freshly baked bread. ‘So, do you think he could introduce me to this Kylara?’

‘If what he said was anything to go by, I doubt you’ll need an introduction. I mean, you’re not a bad looking chap. Just hang around outside her weyr and hope for the best.’

‘Hmm. Might try that later. And if she’s not interested, there’s this little kitchen lass I’ve had my eye on…’

After they’d eaten, R’feem left to round up the rest of the Wing. Riders dispersed to fetch straps and wherhide riding gear. Dragons swooped down from the heights upon which they had been taking the sun.

‘I’ll, er, see you later,’ D’gar said to H’rek on his way out. He still wasn’t entirely sure whether H’rek would want to see him again after the glow from the mating flight wore off, so it was best not to make any definite plans.

‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and help bag up firestone.’

There was a slightly awkward pause. D’gar wasn’t sure if he should give him a goodbye kiss or not but by the time he’d considered the pros and cons, Rioth had landed and H’rek was mounting up, so it was too late anyway.

A short while later, the full Wing had mustered. R’feem and his two new Wingseconds looked over dragons and riders, assessing their condition and fitness. D’gar did his own assessments, fully aware the other riders must be doing the same, knowing that their own and their dragon’s hide would only be safe if this disparate group could meld together into an efficient Threadfighting unit. With Thread falling the next day, it would be necessary for each dragon and his or her rider to get to know how well - or not - their wingmates might perform as quickly as possible.

At the moment, everyone was staying in their own groups; Fort, Igen, High Reaches. It was noticeable that the Igen riders had all clustered together, with their dragons, in the sunniest part of the landing area. Even then, they were well wrapped up and still looked cold. By contrast, the High Reaches riders hadn’t put on their wherhide jackets yet and were all wearing lightweight, short sleeved shirts as if to demonstrate how impervious they were to the elements. D’gar felt a bit too warm here in the Bowl, as he’d put on one of the thick jerseys his mother had knitted under his jacket, knowing that it would be much colder once they were in the air. Dragonriders became used to shedding or donning various layers of clothing as they travelled from one place to another. Even back home, there was often a considerable difference between the air temperature at Fort Weyr and the balmier conditions lower down the valley at the Hold.

‘This is D’gar, “ R’feem said, introducing him to the Wingseconds. ‘He’s been in my Wing for nearly five Turns now.’

B’lin, the brown rider from Igen, smiled as he shook hands. ‘Good looking dragon you have there. Isn’t he the one who flew that Benden green this morning?’

So it had got around. ‘Er, yes. That was Herebeth.’ His dragon turned his head to look at them all, eyes gently whirling.

‘Five Turns and not promoted yet?’ The bronze rider, F’drun, looked down his nose at D’gar. He’d look down at most riders though, as the man had to be well over six feet tall and almost as broad. Still, D’gar felt as if he was being judged and found wanting in some way.

R’feem stepped in. ‘At Fort, we didn’t generally promote younger riders. Found it caused problems with the older ones.’

‘I’ve never found that to be a problem as long as they’re competent.’ F’drun said.

Was than an implication that he wasn’t? D’gar found himself taking a dislike to the man, even though they’d only just met. He hoped that he was wrong, but he didn’t think they were going to have anything close to a good working relationship.

The three moved on. Probably a good thing, otherwise he might have made some retort that wouldn’t do him any favours. He busied himself adjusting the straps.

_The man has made you angry._

_Yes. I didn’t like what he said._

_He did not say much._

_He didn’t have to._

By the time they took off, he’d managed to - more or less - put the encounter to the back of his mind. Once the Wing was aloft, R’feem spent some time seeing how well the different colour dragons matched up to each other in both speed and manoeuvrability, then started to arrange them into various fighting formations. After that, they worked on manoeuvres as a Wing, so that the dragons could get a feel for each other’s pace and were able to keep a consistent distance apart. Once he was happy that there were no real problems - and this entailed some more shuffling of various pairs - they went _between_ to Benden Hold to see the territory they’d be protecting the following day. This was the area that produced the renowned Benden wines, so D’gar had expected to see vineyards below them, but had never before appreciated the vast acreage under cultivation. The rows of grapevines, just starting to burst into leaf, seemed to go on forever. If one Thread burrowed down there, it would be catastrophic for the growers and a wine lover’s worst nightmare.

They returned to the Weyr late in the afternoon, passing over the firestone bunkers on the descent to the Bowl. Bags of graded stone had been neatly stacked in readiness. D’gar found himself wondering if that, too might cause problems. Would Herebeth be able to manage a lump as large as could be comfortably chewed by a Benden brown? Someone else had probably already considered the issue, but just in case, he thought he should mention it to R’feem. After they’d landed, he made his way over and passed on his concerns.

‘That’s a good point, lad. I’ll check later. It wouldn’t do to get a replacement sack mid Fall and find you can’t use the stuff.’

He was making his way past the other dragons to Herebeth when someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him round. It was F’drun. ‘What did you have to say to the Wingleader just now?’

‘I was worried about the firestone, that’s all. Whether they’ve thought to take into consideration the relative size of our dragons compared to theirs.’

‘Listen.’ He poked D’gar in the chest. Even through the wherhide, it hurt. ‘From now on, anything you have to report goes through me first. I don’t want riders bothering the Wingleader with every little whinge.’

‘That’s not how we used to do it,’ he protested.

‘Well, it’s how I want it done from now on. Got that, rider?’

Did he want to pick a fight? Maybe he did. Or maybe he was just throwing his weight around to see if anyone would stand up to him. ‘Until I get that instruction directly from my Wingleader, nothing changes. Got that, Wingsecond?’ He was conscious of dragons becoming unsettled.

_Are you all right? Do you need help?_

_Everything’s fine._

F’drun stared at him for a few seconds. His huge fists clenched. D’gar wondered if he was about to get punched but he stood his ground. Then, he became aware that other riders were forming up on either side of him. M’rell, J’rud and even V’chal.

F’drun looked at them all with narrowed eyes, then focussed back on D’gar. ‘You,’ he said, stopping just short of another poke, ‘Are a troublemaker. I’m going to keep my eye on you.’ Then he spun on his heel and was gone.

‘What was all that about?’ M’rell asked.

‘Not sure. Think he’s just trying us out.’

‘Nasty piece of work,’ J’rud said. ‘Do you think that’s why they wanted rid of him from High Reaches?’

‘Who knows.’

V’chal sighed. ‘Pity. He’s such a hunk, too.’

_Piroth tells us we are all to rest so that we are fresh for tomorrow. I think I shall go and find Rioth._

_Lucky you._ He still felt unsettled and had a bad feeling that this was just the beginning.

Later, his fears were confirmed. It was after they’d eaten. T’garrin had brought his cards down and was starting a game of Dragon Poker with J’rud. A few of the Benden riders had come over and looked like joining in. The rest of the Fort riders hung back. They knew T’garrin’s ways too well. He’d end up considerably richer by the end of the evening if he was on his usual form.

As they pulled up some chairs, two of the High Reaches riders joined them.

‘Saw you had a run in with our delightful bronze rider this afternoon,’ the older one said. At his age, you’d have expected him to have lost some of his hair, but you couldn’t tell, as his whole head was shaved and his scalp shone as if polished. He still wore his short-sleeved shirt, revealing muscular arms covered in dragon tattoos. ’T’burrad, Melth’s rider,’ he offered.

That was the heavily scarred blue dragon, D’gar recalled. ‘D’gar. Herebeth,’ he said in return.

‘Oh, we know who you are,’ the other rider said. ‘You’re F’drun’s next victim.’

‘What?’

‘It’s what he does. Always picks on someone. Makes their life a misery. Makes everyone else have second thoughts about crossing him.’ T’burrad shrugged. ‘Thought we’d better warn you, though.’

‘Thought we’d got rid of him when we were sent here.’

‘You were in his Wing?’ M’rell asked.

‘V’vil here was. I was lucky enough to avoid the bastard,’ T’burrad said. ‘Might have landed one on him, otherwise.’

‘What did you lot do to get sent here?’ V’vil sipped from his mug of klah.

‘Eh?’

‘Well, you must have done something. They wouldn’t have got rid of you otherwise.’

M’rell and D’gar looked at each other. Were they missing something, D’gar wondered? ‘We survived,’ he said. ‘Most of the rest of the Wing didn’t.’

‘And our Weyrleader had promised to send a few riders over here,’ M’rell added.

‘As they all did,’ D’gar pointed out. ‘Easier to send the odds and sods than break up an intact Wing. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

The two exchanged glances. ‘It doesn’t work that way in High Reaches,’ V’vil said at last. ‘F’drun’s here because T’kul hates his guts. I’m here because my Bitath got a bit too close to Merika’s Elyth on the last mating flight.’

‘So T’kul hates your guts too,’ T’burrad put in. ‘Basically, if T’kul doesn’t like you and there’s an opportunity to be rid of you, then he’ll take it.’

D’gar was less concerned about why they’d been sent to Benden than what they’d said earlier. ‘So, why me? Why’d F’drun pick me?’

‘No idea. Maybe he heard your name first. Maybe he just doesn’t like the look of you. There’s no reason to it. At least, none I’ve ever been able to work out. If you were in his Wing, you just kept your head down and hoped he didn’t notice you.’

‘Anything I can do now?’

V’vil smiled slowly. ‘Hope that Thread gets him. He’s a big enough target.’

He was still mulling over this when he went up to the hearth to get a refill.

Someone touched him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped, almost spilling his klah.

‘Sorry,’ H’rek said. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you. Had a good afternoon?’

‘I’ve had better. How about you?’

‘Bagging firestone has never been my favourite job. What happened?’

‘New Wingsecond hates me already.’

‘Why?’

‘No one seems to know, apart from him being a bastard.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Get on with my job and try to avoid him.’

‘Oh.’ H’rek glanced back toward his clutchmates. ‘That lot seem to think I let down the side, letting Rioth get caught by a four hundred Turn old dragon.’

‘Surely that was up to Rioth?’

‘That’s what I tried to tell them. Then there’s all the snide comments about you, as well.’

‘Oh?’

‘Same kind of thing, really. “Could he still remember what to do after four hundred Turns.” Dimglows!’

D’gar found himself getting annoyed again. ‘Want me to have a word with anyone?’

‘No. Don’t bother. I think they’re just jealous. Let’s give them good reason to be.’ H’rek put one hand behind his head and pulled him over for a kiss. It took him slightly by surprise, but he thought he’d better play along with the game, so he put his arms around H’rek and enjoyed it while it lasted.

‘Are they looking?’ H’rek whispered, his breath warm on D’gar’s neck.

‘A few of them.’ It felt good to be this close to him again. And it was long enough since the mating flight for that to be due to genuine human emotions rather than dragonlust. But he needed to talk things through, somewhere with a touch more privacy than the dining hall. ‘Shall we just go for a walk?’

‘If you like.’

They held hands as they walked out to the Bowl. The sky was dappled with pink and grey clouds as the sun set.

‘That’ll give them something to gossip about,’ H’rek said. ‘Bet they think we’re going back to your weyr.’

It was a tempting thought. He very much wanted to leave his brain and scruples behind and just do what felt natural. But as they were humans rather than dragons, that would only cause complications. D’gar formulated several sentences in his head, rejecting them one by one.

‘Shall we?’ H’rek asked.

‘What?’ The question had disturbed his train of thought.

‘Go back to your weyr? Or mine.’

‘Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, we barely know each other…’

‘How can you say that after what happened this morning.’ He stopped walking. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Um, well. I’m a lot older than you are.’

‘Not enough to make that much difference,’ H’rek protested. ‘Anyway, what’s age got to do with it? The first time I met you, I felt as if we’d known each other for Turns. We’ve got so much in common.’

That was all true. He’d felt the same. ‘I know.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us to carry on with this.’ Because I don’t think I could cope if I fell in love then had to scrape up what was left of you after Threadfall and take it _between_ , he wanted to say.

‘Because I might get killed, you mean? Or you might?’

It was too fast for him to have got that via the dragons, so it just went to prove how much they thought alike. ‘Well, yes.’

‘So, what you’re saying is you’re never going to risk falling in love again in case someone dies. That’s crazy. Even if there wasn’t Thread, people have accidents. People die of illnesses. My grandfather choked on a piece of meat and he wasn’t doing anything more dangerous than having dinner.’

D’gar couldn’t help himself smiling at that image. Then realised that smiling might not be appropriate. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be. He was a miserable old git and I don’t miss him. Neither does his widow.’ H’rek paused briefly. ‘You think too much, you know?’

‘Someone else used to say that.’ If H’rek decided to leave him here now, he knew what would happen. He’d spend the whole night regretting what he’d done and end up feeling miserable. Herebeth would be miserable too and would make sure he knew about it.

‘What you need right now is to stop thinking. And I’ve got a few ideas about how to take care of that.’

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the time to take a chance. Before he could change his mind again, he called Herebeth. _I’ll need a lift back to the weyr._

_Just you?_

_No, two of us._

_About time. I don’t know why you humans make life so difficult for yourselves._


	6. Thread over Benden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threadfall over Benden Hold brings worries for D'gar.

D’gar woke as the grey light of dawn filtered beneath the heavy curtain separating the sleeping chamber from his dragon’s weyr. He wasn’t alone; H’rek had stayed the night and was still sleeping soundly, having pulled most of the furs to his side of the bed. He lay there for a while, as the increasing light began to illuminate more of the weyr. It was strange to wake up with someone sharing his bed, after having got used to being alone. He shivered as he remembered that the last time he had woken like this, on a Threadfall day, with S’brin next to him in bed, it had also been the last time they would ever see a morning together. He told himself not to be stupid; that all because something bad had happened in the past didn’t mean it was going to happen again. Yet the undeniable fact was that he’d let himself start to care about H’rek and if something happened to him, either today or next Threadfall, or any of the ones after that, he would only have himself to blame for the way he’d feel then.

Despite not wanting to disturb the lad, he eventually had to get out of bed to use the necessary at the back of the weyr. He’d been glad to find that Benden, like Fort, had been designed with such a useful convenience, which he knew he’d need to visit several more times this morning. His stomach was already churning and unsettled. It would be an effort to eat any breakfast, but he’d need the energy to get through a four-hour Fall, so would force it down and hope he managed to keep it there.

When he returned, H’rek was awake, stretching and yawning. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

He sat on the edge of the bed. ’As all right as I ever am when I know there’s Fall later.’ No point in hiding the truth.

‘Do you get scared?’

‘Of course I do. Fear’s a good thing. It keeps you sharp; keeps you safe.’

Hrek sighed. ‘I thought it was just me. The others don’t seem to feel scared at all.’

‘That’s what they might say. But in my experience, anyone who says they’re not afraid is either lying or they’re too stupid to feel it.’ It was good that H’rek felt scared. It might help him stay alive.

‘I remember the first Threadfall, at Nerat. It was before we went south, before I Impressed Rioth. We all helped out, here at the Weyr…’ his voice trailed off, his eyes bleak.

D’gar nodded, encouraging him to go on.

‘Seeing the dragons coming back scored was horrible. One rider had his arm half burned away. Someone else lost an eye. So I know the dangers. You must have seen a lot worse.’

A lot worse. Yes. ‘When it’s your friends…’ B’rol, four sevendays out of his weyrling class, taking a clump of Thread across his back that ate through his spine. Blue Neyrenth, his left wing mostly gone, screaming in pain as he made a heavy landing in the Weyr Bowl. S’brin in the infirmary…

‘And your weyrmate, you said.’

D’gar shut his eyes. ‘I don’t want to think about that day.’

H’rek put an arm around him. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you.’

‘Everything reminds me. But you know the old ballad. “Dragonmen must fly, when Threads are in the sky.” It’s what we do. And once you’re up there, you don’t have time to think about it.’ This was why he hadn’t wanted to get close to anyone again. Only Herebeth knew what went on in his head and Herebeth was blessedly discreet. ‘Well,’ he said, standing up abruptly. ‘I suppose we’d better get dressed and get something to eat.’ Only then, the thought of food made his stomach turn over and he had to rush to the back of the weyr again. H’rek must have heard him retching, but thankfully said nothing about it.

They made it down to breakfast while there was still a fair amount of choice to be had. D’gar had a bowl of porridge to try and settle his stomach. H’rek piled his plate with meat rolls, bread, cheese and some cold meats.

‘The lad’s got an appetite,’ M’rell commented.

‘Tell me about it.’ He forced another spoonful down.

‘You should try to eat some more.’ H’rek was getting through his own breakfast with enthusiasm. ‘We’ll miss lunch, you know.’

‘Oh, he can never eat much before Fall,’ J’rud said. ‘Probably best not to try and make him, either. Herebeth won’t appreciate being vomited on again.'

It was typical of J’rud to remember that occasion. Most of it had gone on the firestone sacks anyway. He ate some more without enjoyment.

‘Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.’ J’rud laughed. ‘Brought it up! Get it?’

‘Ha, ha,’ D’gar said. ‘You’re on form this morning.’ He caught T’garrin’s eye. ‘Win much last night?’

‘A few marks. Not too many, or they won’t play again. Weren’t you watching, then?’

V’chal paused in eating his own breakfast. ‘D’gar and H’rek left early.’

Trust him to have noticed. ‘Wanted to get an early night before Threadfall,’ he mumbled.

‘Hmm. Don’t expect either of you did much sleeping.’

H’rek smiled cheekily. ‘We got enough. Sleep, as well.’

D’gar groaned. ‘Don’t you start. V’chal doesn’t need any encouragement.’

‘No, and I never got any from you.’ He paused, catching H’rek’s eye before finishing, ‘Encouragement, that is, before you get the wrong idea.’

‘What would breakfast be like without a couple of green riders sniping at each other,’ T’garrin commented.

‘You love us, really,’ V’chal said. ‘Especially when your dragons get the urge.’ He looked at H’rek again. ‘Aren’t you going to get yourself a bad name, hanging around with us four hundred Turn old riders?’

H’rek shrugged. ‘I already have. There were a couple of my clutchmates in the flight yesterday and they didn’t like losing.’

‘You’d best go over and say hello at least,’ D’gar told him. ‘You don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone you’ll be flying with during Threadfall.’

‘Speaking of which, guess who just walked in,’ M’rell said. ‘No, don’t look up or he’ll know we’ve spotted him.’ They all pretended they were concentrating on eating their food until F’drun had gone past.

D’gar pushed his half-finished bowl away. ‘If I throw up today, please let it be in range of that bastard.’

Later that morning, he finished rigging Herebeth with the fighting straps, carefully checking the condition as he always did. It wouldn’t do for a strap to break mid Fall and the sort of flying they’d be doing would stress the leather to its limits.

_We’re flying mid-level today,_ he said to the dragon. _Now mind you keep an eye on Choliarth. I didn’t like the way he was flying yesterday._ The brown from Igen seemed unable to hold to a steady speed, meaning that Herebeth had to keep correcting his own to maintain a proper distance.

_I shall be careful. Choliarth flies erratically. But he recovers from a wing strain, so it is not his fault._

_Maybe he shouldn’t be flying Fall yet._

_He says he is fine._

_Let’s hope so._

At least they had Belloth covering their tail. It was always good to have a pair you knew and trusted behind you. As a blue, Belloth would not be expected to fly the full Fall, so at some point he would be replaced by Zath and M’ta, another steady and familiar pair.

They flew down to join the rest of the Wing, mustering beside the lake. The crunch of dragons chewing firestone echoed around the Bowl. One of the young riders handed D’gar a pair of spare bags, which he slung over Herebeth’s neck, making sure they were firmly fixed in place. Thankfully, his stomach had settled and it didn’t feel as if the porridge was going to make a reappearance any time soon. This was the time he always hated; waiting around before getting airborne. Because nothing was actually happening, it gave you the opportunity to think about all the things which might go wrong. Once they were aloft, he’d be able to concentrate only on the here and now, like a dragon.

He occupied himself by watching the wind blow little ripples across the lake. If it was able to do that at ground level, then it would probably be a lot stronger up in the air. Certainly the small white clouds in the sky had a slightly ragged wind-blown look and were moving rapidly in a north-westerly direction. But they’d have a weather report soon anyway. Sweep riders were always sent ahead to check local weather conditions, make sure ground crews were in position and ready and that anyone who shouldn’t be out during Fall was safely within stone walls.

Other preparations were also being made. Tables had been set up outside the infirmary cavern and were being stacked with pots of numbweed, bandages and other supplies to take care of the inevitable casualties. It was best not to think too much about those right now.

_I need more firestone,_ Herebeth reminded him. He carefully selected a few pieces of the right size and fed them one by one to the dragon. Herebeth chewed carefully, a look of concentration on his face.

Meanwhile, two Wings of Benden dragons ascended above the Bowl in V formation, winking out as one when they had reached a safe height. Another two were readying themselves to leave; the riders mounting up and making final checks. The two queens, Ramoth and Prideth were further back, having their flamethrower tanks fixed into position. They would be accompanied in the Queens’ Wing by some of the young riders and dragons and a few pairs recovering from injury who needed to be eased back into fighting fitness.

_Piroth tells us to make ready. We take off next._

_Here we go then._ He mounted up, wondering, as he always had these last few times, if he would feel the ground under his feet again. It wasn’t that he didn’t have confidence in himself or his dragon, just a realistic view of the risks they were about to take.

The came out of _between_ high above the vineyards. It was definitely far windier here than in the comparative shelter of the Bowl. D’gar felt Herebeth steady himself against the gusts as they took their place in formation. Three of the Benden wings were already climbing toward the upper level. A threatening greyness in the north eastern sky showed the approach of the leading edge of Threadfall.

Telgar had felt like an exhibition flight, D’gar realised; all the Weyrs turning up in force, no one over strained or having to fly a full Fall. This was the real thing; the first day’s deadly work after a brief holiday. The scene was both familiar and different. Familiar in that it was part of the old routine; what they had been trained for and what they had done every Fall for the past five Turns. Different because they were flying over country that neither knew well, protecting Holds that belonged to people whose great great grandparents hadn’t even been born back when Herebeth hatched. There were clusters of them far below, like scurrying insects; the ground crews preparing to do their duty to their Lord Holder, just as D’gar did his for the Weyr. Even though this wasn’t his Weyr and the well-known terrain of Fort, Ruatha or Boll beneath Herebeth’s wings, it still mattered. Had to matter.

_Ryth’s rider tells us we are out of line,_ Herebeth told him. It would be good to think that the Wingsecond was scanning all of the pairs in the Wing, but D’gar wondered if that was the case or if he was being singled out. A quick check to either side showed it wasn’t just them. The newly formed Wing was still settling in; there was no way anyone would keep in perfect formation after only a few hours flying together. And the wind didn’t help, either. Already, Herebeth was having to compensate for Choliarth’s changing speed ahead of them instead of flying easily at his usual steady pace.

_Try and keep a good distance from Choliarth. We don’t want to end up flaming his tail off._ If he kept on flying the way he was, that would be a distinct possibility.

Leading edge was closer now. He double checked everything again and tightened the straps.

A dragon roared, far above. Mnementh, the Weyrleader’s bronze, giving the signal to commence the fight. Three wings of Benden dragons rose up to meet the deadly spores, bright gouts of flame visible against the sky.

Now that it was almost upon them, he could see that this Fall was going to be a difficult one. The Threads were falling like a fine rain, with less large clumps and more individual strands which blew easily on the wind.

Over to his right, he saw Lilith spiralling down after a long filament, burning it to ash. This was where the nimble greens and speedy blues came into their own. Although they couldn’t flame as powerfully as the larger dragons, their manoeuvrability gave them an advantage in conditions such as these.

_To our left,_ came Herebeth’s brief warning before he turned to flame a twist of several Threads, almost immediately having to bank steeply to avoid another that a gust of wind suddenly sent their way. D’gar felt the strap dig in to his leg from the sudden move. Herebeth turned as sharply as he’d ever done and seared the stray Thread then powered back up to resume their position. Behind them, Belloth flamed another long tangle, while ahead, Choliarth attempted a similar move, but failed to destroy the bottom third of the strands, which continued to fall earthwards. D’gar expected to see him follow it down to clear up the mess, but the brown continued flying level. That was sloppy. Even a small piece of live Thread could cause damage and it was harder for the Wings below to spot.

_Choliarth has a problem,_ D’gar sent to Herebeth.

_Shall I pass it on to Piroth?_

_Please._ He didn’t want them to get into difficulty and judging by the way they were flying so far, while still fresh, it was inevitable at some point. The pair had obviously come back to duty too early; it happened sometimes. Dragons hated to be grounded when Thread fell and their frustration transferred over to the rider. Add to that the rider’s own wishes to not leave their Wing under strength and it was small wonder that some pairs often flew Fall again before they were fully fit.

_Piroth’s rider reminds us that we have Wingseconds now and we should inform one of their dragons._

_Fair enough._ He’d been so used to not having an intermediary that he’d forgotten the protocol. Plus he wanted nothing to do with F’drun anyway. Best to let B’lin know; he was from Igen too and would be more familiar with Choliarth and C’don. _Pass the message to Ondiath then._

Thread was coming thick and fast ahead. Two long, thin pieces fell to their right, the wind making them flutter like Gather banners, Another, thicker strand fell further over. The first turned to ash swiftly under Herebeth’s flame. D’gar shut his eyes as they flew through the char, still hot enough to hurt as it hit his face. Herebeth dealt with the last strand, then blinked back into place.

Well done. There was barely time to congratulate themselves before having to quickly blink _between_ again, avoiding Threads that were blowing straight for Herebeth’s left wing. They came in above and alongside and took out the patch.

As always, time had no meaning when you were concentrating on the fight. Its passing was measured by the number of times you pulled chunks of firestone from the bags and threw it for your dragon to catch whenever there was clear enough space to do so. When you’d started on the second bag, you put in a request for replacement. Best not to wait too long, or you might run out before they had a chance to send someone up.

Herebeth banked and flamed, then executed a neat twist to avoid another Thread. Belloth takes it, the dragon relayed back. A flash of blue against dark earth as Belloth dived and seared it to oblivion.

Now they’d reached the far edge. Piroth gave the command and all the dragons turned. In a well drilled Wing, it should be seamless and precise. Given they’d had all of four hours flying to get used to each other, it wasn’t bad, but it was a long way from perfect. Choliarth struggled more than most, forcing Herebeth to swing out to avoid him.  
_Ryth informs us we are all over the place and to sharding well pay attention._ Herebeth relayed the observation with a degree of humour that D’gar knew would have been lacking in the original.

_If we didn’t have a flying brick in front of us we’d do a lot better. Don’t tell him that._

_As if I would. Choliarth is definitely getting worse though._

_Nothing we can do about that. Just try and get whatever he misses, all right?_

It was harder now that they were flying against the wind. D’gar could feel his dragon’s muscles working constantly to keep him level and straight against it. An unexpected blur of colour tumbling through the sky caught his eye. A green dragon was falling, one wing useless. A blue blinked _between_ out of her way, just in time.

_Who is it?_ he asked with a sudden stab of panic.

_Zolth falls. Prideth goes to her rescue._

He lost sight of the stricken dragon, too busy to pay any more attention to her fate. A falling tangle blew straight at them. Herebeth put his head down. D’gar flattened himself against the dragon’s neck. They dived away from it. Herebeth blinked between.

_Did it get you?_

_No, but it was close. Belloth has it._

_Again. Good old Belloth._

There were always one or two heart-stopping moments like that in every Fall. Near misses that were only a lucky break away from being injury or worse.  
_Keep your eyes peeled. I didn’t see that coming at all._

_Good job I did, then._ He sounded smug. _More firestone please._

_I’m starting the second bag. Can you ask Ondiath for replacements?_

_I ask now. He says there will be more coming up shortly. We are not the only ones running low today._

The wind was partly to blame for that. As well as drifting Thread dangerously, it made the flame direction less accurate. It also blew the ashes around. Herebeth’s hide was flecked with black and grey. D’gar’s mouth was dry. Seeing a clear space ahead, he took a quick swig from the canteen of water hooked on to the right side of the fighting straps.

In the inverted V formation they were flying, Choliarth should be ahead and to their left, but he seemed unable to hold his line. Herebeth kept a safe distance between them, but also had to keep moving to one side or another so that the Igen brown wasn’t directly in front of him. Because he was out of position, he missed two lots of Thread that should have been his, forcing Herebeth to take them instead.

_We’d be better off without him getting in our way. Tell Ondiath he’s tiring fast._ The pair should go back to the Weyr before they got hurt, or endangered someone else.

Apparently, the message got through and was relayed back to Choliarth. C’don looked back at him and shouted something. The wind ripped it away.

_Choliarth’s rider asks us to mind our own business. He says they are well enough._

_He’s kidding himself, then._ D’gar foresaw some unpleasantness when they were back on the ground. Still, he hoped someone would do the same for him if he was stubborn enough to carry on when it was so self-evident he shouldn’t.

_Firestone deliveries come._

A young blue dragon brought theirs, throwing the full bags accurately for D’gar to catch. He threw the empty one back across - the wind made it hard for the rider to grab, but he leaned out and managed it - then gave a sign of acknowledgement before banking away. Dragon and rider flicked _between_ unscathed. D’gar fastened the new bags to his straps quickly as more Thread was coming down. Ahead of them, Choliarth turned awkwardly to his right and flamed several strands, then went for another, seemingly unaware he had put himself directly under a tangle coming down above his own back.

“Move! Move!” D’gar yelled out loud at the same time as Herebeth added his own mental shout to warn the other dragon.

_Can we take it out?_

_Too close to them._

Almost too late, Choliarth spotted it and went _between_ in an instant. With clear air ahead of him, Herebeth seared the Threads, then moved aside to allow space for Choliarth to return.

_Where are they?_ D’gar looked all around. Had the pair come back in the wrong part of the formation? In the next breath, he realised that wasn’t the case. An awful sadness washed over him. The dragons always knew.

_They do not come back from_ between, Herebeth said solemnly.

There was no time to mourn, not when they were still only half way through the Fall. His shoulders were starting to ache and Herebeth must be feeling the strain from having to fight against the wind as well as Thread. This was the point where you just had to grit your teeth, concentrate and get on with it. Everyone else would be in similar condition. You could almost envy the blues and greens who would be sent back shortly, remaining on standby only in case there were heavy losses in a Wing and they might need to be called to fight again.

More cloud was building up now, making it harder to pick out the silver-grey strands that fell relentlessly. The dragons eyes were more effective than humans under such conditions.

_Belloth returns to the Weyr,_ Herebeth commented, as the blue dragon went _between_ and just a few breaths later was replaced by Zath. M’ta raised his hand briefly in greeting before he got on with the task in hand.

D’gar wiped his face again and took another drink. It was easy to get dehydrated during Fall. Despite the chill of the wind, the physical exertion of fighting made him sweat a lot. Every time he went between the intense cold sucked away his body’s heat and made his shirt feel clammy against his skin. He’d long since ceased to feel his feet despite having put on a thick pair of socks under his boots.

The wind eased slightly, giving some relief, although Thread fell as relentlessly as ever. Herebeth continued his task, flaming just enough to sear Thread without using more firestone than he needed to. Now that Choliarth had gone, they had more air to cover than in the first part of the Fall, but despite this, it felt easier. With a manoeuvrable green ahead and blue Zath behind, they prevented plenty of Thread from reaching the level below them. With any luck, not much would have got down to the ground, although there would still need to be checks made for burrows. Not having heard anything to the contrary, D’gar presumed that another Wing had been allocated that task. Good. It wasn’t one he enjoyed. Back when he’d been a weyrling, he’d heard a gruesome story of how the earth gave way under a rider searching for burrows and before he could be rescued, he was consumed by Thread. It had always made him very cautious on the ground, keeping a line between himself and Herebeth so that he could be pulled out quickly if anything went wrong.

_Trailing edge is in sight,_ Herebeth commented.

_Good. Not much longer._ His stomach gave a lurch as Herebeth pulled a manoeuvre that scrubbed off their speed and put them sideways on to a twisted pair of Threads, which he proceeded to flame to ash. _Glad you didn’t do that earlier or I might have seen my breakfast again._

_I always vomit after Fall,_ Herebeth said.

_You’re meant to. And do you really want me to throw up here? Think of the poor sods below us._

It was getting close to the end of Fall. Just needed to keep on concentrating for a while longer. Ignore the aches, the numb feet, the ashy taste in your mouth, the cold sweat plastering your shirt to your body. In a little while, there would be clear skies. Well, for a day or two, anyway.

The last few Threads drifted down and were destroyed. The dragons roared. For a few moments, D’gar felt, as everyone did, a sense of achievement; of victory. Everyone had done their best and another battle was done. Tonight, it would be a time to celebrate survival and drink far too much. Tomorrow, folk would nurse hangovers, then start preparing to do it all over again. And, back at the Weyr, the dragons would keen for their loss.


	7. Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Threadfall, reflections over what went wrong.

D’gar slid the straps off Herebeth, only then realising how exhausted he felt. His back and neck ached fiercely and his feet were at just the wrong stage of coming back to life that they hurt.

_I shall go for a swim now,_ Herebeth said happily, as he took off and joined the scrummage of dragons making for the lake. The water must be freezing, but fortunately dragons didn’t feel the cold with the same intensity as their riders.

After hanging his straps carefully on the hooks provided, he limped into the bathing cavern, which was as full of riders as the lake was of dragons. Fortunately, there were several different sized bathing pools available and some of those who had come back earlier were already getting out to make room for others. A pile of dry towels had been left on one of the stone shelves, carved so precisely you had to wonder how it had been done. There were plenty of cubby holes in which to store your clothing, shaped by the same lost techniques. He carefully put the clean, folded shirt he’d brought down from his weyr in first. No way was he going to put the damp, sweaty one back on after getting clean. He pulled his boots off, wincing. Two of his toes looked pale and bloodless and he sat rubbing some life back into them before going any further. Painful experience had taught him that putting numb toes into hot water wasn’t a good idea. He undressed slowly, so that by the time he’d stripped down to his underclothes, his toes had more or less returned to the land of the living. Unlike Choliarth and C’don, who wouldn’t be returning anywhere. It must have been poor visualisation when they were taken by surprise, although that was a more common mistake among younger pairs, not something you’d expect to happen to a dragon and rider of their age and experience.

‘Not too bad a Fall,’ someone said.

D’gar turned to see T’burrad. ‘Apart from losing a pair.’

‘I’ve seen worse.’ He kicked off his wherhide trousers. ’You must have done too.’

D’gar nodded. It was rare not to lose anyone during a Fall, but it didn’t usually happen right in front of you. Now that he had time to think, he kept wondering if there was anything else he could have done to prevent it. ‘I saw this one happen,’ he said.

‘Thread get him?’ T’burrad stripped off his shirt. It was a pleasant distraction to notice that his tattoos went a lot further than just his arms.

‘No. There was a patch coming down above them. They spotted it at the last minute - we tried to warn them - and they went _between_ before it got close enough to do any damage.’

‘Bad visual, then.’

‘That’s what I was thinking.’

T’burrad shrugged. ‘Oh well, nothing you could have done.’ He finished undressing. ‘Seen any of the others?’

‘Think they’re in that pool over there.’ He pointed over to their right. Watching him walk away, D’gar realised he was guilty of staring. He’d not consciously looked at men’s bodies in that way for a while. Well, up until the mating flight he’d not even really thought about sex for a good while, so it figured. He finished undressing and followed him over to the pool.

The hot water felt wonderful. He ducked under, then grabbed a handful of sweetsand to rinse his hair and scrub the ash from his face. His cheeks stung slightly; must have caught a few burns from the char. But he was here, safe, alive and unscored. Herebeth was fine too. It had been, all in all, not a bad day.

He swam across the join the rest of the Fort riders, who were sitting on the ledge that ran along one side of the pool, semi-submerged. Everyone seemed in good spirits. The igen riders, in slightly more sombre mood, were lined up on the other side, talking quietly among themselves. Strange to think the last time he’d shared a bath with all his wingmates was after the last ever Fall (as far as they’d known then) over Ruatha. The mood had been almost euphoric. Now, it was just another day’s work done; the first of many Falls in this new Pass. It was fairly unlikely any of them would live to see clear skies again.

‘Hey, D’gar. You going to get that lad of yours to give you a massage tonight?’ It was V’chal. He’d already made his own move and was kneading T’garrin’s shoulders.

‘Maybe. If he’s not too tired from throwing firestone around all day.’ To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure what H’rek had planned for later. He might prefer to celebrate with his own clutchmates this evening. Spending just one night together (and after a mating flight at that) didn’t make it a relationship.

‘I’m sure he won’t be too tired,’ V’chal said, leaving unsaid what he thought H’rek might not be too tired for.

‘We’ll see.’ He floated on his back for a while, tracing the patterns in the strata of the cavern ceiling and letting the warmth soothe away his aches and pains. Herebeth was doing much the same in the lake, immersing his tired wings in the cool water.

_You like him. He likes you. You are good for each other._

_Stop it, you matchmaking dragon, you._

This was very peaceful. He tried to clear his mind and think of nothing at all. It only lasted a few minutes until a couple of the riders started splashing around and he got a mouthful of soapy water with an aftertaste of ash and firestone. The water in the baths circulated to keep clean, but not that quickly.

‘Hey!’ he protested, getting splashed again for a reply. Well, there wasn’t going to be any more relaxing now, so he joined in with the water fight. It got quite rowdy and a fair amount of water went over the edge of the pool. Luckily whoever had designed the bathing cavern had anticipated that kind of situation and had sloped the floor slightly so that the excess drained away. By the time he got out, the flooding had receded, although the floor was still quite wet in places.

He dried himself off and put his trousers back on. Then, just as he was about to pick up his clean shirt, someone reached in from behind him and snatched it away.

‘Hey, watch it!’ He turned, expecting it to be J’rud or one of the other jokers, only to find F’drun standing there, fully dressed. There was a tiny damp patch on the left sleeve of his shirt.

‘You splashed me,’ he said coldly.

With all the splashing that had been going on, there was no way anyone could be singled out as being to blame. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d been drenched or anything. ‘We were all messing around,’ he said. ‘Not just me.’ He wasn’t going to apologise for something that wasn’t his fault.

F’drun looked him right in the eyes and deliberately dropped his shirt into a puddle. He smiled nastily.

D’gar felt anger rising up, even though he knew that F’drun was deliberately trying to provoke him. The room had gone very quiet and people were watching to see what might happen next. It was obvious that F’drun wanted him to lose his temper. And however satisfying that would be (very, at the moment) it would only make things worse. D’gar took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm. ‘Never much liked that shirt anyway,’ he said, addressing the audience who had all gathered at the side of the pool. He picked it up and wrung out the worst of the water. ‘Oh well, better take this to the laundry. See you lot later.’

It wasn’t really warm enough to walk around shirtless, but it was either that or put on the one he’d worn all during Threadfall. He walked briskly across to the Lower Caverns and the laundry. The steamy warmth issuing from the doorway soon took away the chill. A few of the women inside stopped what they were about and stared at him. He supposed it wasn’t that common for partially dressed riders to come in. There were one or two whistles of appreciation.

‘Er, where do I put things that need washing?’ he asked a plump young woman, whose glossy brown curls were bent on escaping from under the scarf she’d tied around her head.

‘Over there.’ She pointed to a large woven basket.

‘Thanks.’ He turned to go.

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Come with me.’ And she guided him out of the main cavern into a corridor. He hoped fervently she wasn’t going to proposition him. It was the last thing he needed right now.

‘i’m Bavi,’ she said, by way of introduction.

‘D’gar, Herebeth’s rider.’

‘Thought so. You’re the one whose dragon flew Rioth, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ What was it to her?

She stood with hands on hips and looked him up and down. ‘You’d better take care of my H’rek. If you hurt him, then…’ She paused as if searching for some suitable threat. ‘Every single thing you send to this laundry will end up shrunk, dyed or otherwise ruined. Got that?’

Her H’rek? She certainly wasn’t old enough to be his mother. A sister maybe? ‘Listen, Bavi. I’ve no intention of hurting H’rek in any way.’

‘Good. Then we’ll get along fine.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give us those shirts. I’ll make sure they get done today.’

‘Thanks.’ He handed them over.

She appraised him one more time. ‘Not bad, I suppose. Bit skinny for my taste. Now get off with you and put something on before you catch your death.’

He went up to his weyr for a fresh shirt (his last one), then before going back down for the Wing meeting, sat on the edge of his unmade bed to get his thoughts in order. Firstly, what could he do about F’drun? The man was going to make his life a misery if it carried on like this. Would it be worthwhile trying to talk to him, alone, where he had no need to put on an act in front of others? From what he’d heard from the High Reaches riders, it might be a pointless exercise, but it had to be worth a try.

Secondly, what to do about H’rek. He couldn’t deny he liked the lad. They were good for each other in all sorts of ways. Before he’d met H’rek, he hadn’t much cared, but now he had a reason to live again. Was that really fair though? He sighed. Maybe he should try to discourage H’rek from spending another night with him; give him a chance to come down from the aftermath of the mating flight and make a more reasoned decision about whether he wanted this to continue. Whatever this was.

_You think too much,_ Herebeth commented.

_I know. Can’t help it, though._ He’d sometimes wondered if his life would be easier if he was more like M’rell, who never spent too much time considering the consequences of anything he decided to do. Or J’rud, always quick with a joke or a witty comment. Or even V’chal, who only thought about his next sexual conquest. Their lives were surely a great deal simpler than his own.

_Come on then. Best get on with it._

Herebeth flew him back down. He noticed the youngsters - still couldn’t stop himself thinking of them as weyrlings, even if H’rek didn’t like it - on their way into the bathing cavern. They must have just finished their firestone duties. Their dragons took off from the landing area, most heading for the lake, which would surely be a bit stirred up and mucky by now. Herebeth followed. He was still besotted with Rioth. Like dragon, like rider, D’gar thought ruefully, before going inside to join his wingmates, most of whom were already seated around one of the long dining tables. He poured himself a klah and went over. M’rell moved up on the bench to make space. The seating was still split along Weyr affiliation lines; Fort, Igen, High Reaches. It would be a while - if ever - before that changed. R’feem sat in the centre of the long edge of the table, flanked by his Wingseconds. B’lin looked serious; well, he’d lost one of his own riders today, so that was to be expected. F’drun looked grim, but that seemed to be his default expression, so no point trying to read anything into it. The last few stragglers came and joined them.

‘Right. Now we’re all here, I’m going to try to keep this as brief as possible,’ R’feem started. ‘But first, we need to remember and honour C’don and Choliarth, who were lost today. They were a seasoned pair, with twelve Turns of fighting Thread behind them. Let’s send them off properly.’

B’lin and F’drun passed around small cups of something alcoholic and they all joined in a toast to the unfortunate pair. Just like the old days, D’gar thought as the fiery spirit burned a trail down his throat. Some days, they’d lost so many, everyone was drunk before the meeting even started.

‘Now, to business.’ R’feem called them back, probably as aware as anyone of the memories that had stirred up. ‘It would be remiss of me not to point out that ours was the only Wing to have a fatality today.’

‘That was just bad luck,’ one of the Igen riders said.

‘I know, I know,’ R’feem said. ‘But still, it doesn’t look good for us to lose a pair, when they didn’t.’

‘We didn’t have any scorings and they had plenty,’ M’rell said.

Us and them. It was inevitable, especially after all the ‘four hundred Turn old’ jibes.

‘They didn’t even keep formation most of the time from what I was seeing. All over the sky, they were.’ That was from T’burrad.

‘Should have been keeping an eye on where you were, rather than other folk,’ F’drun sounded irritated. ‘There were one or two in our Wing who were equally as bad.'

D’gar knew that F’drun would be looking in his direction. He could almost feel the man’s eyes boring in to him, so he deliberately refused to look up.

‘I’m afraid F’drun has a point there. Now I know we’ve not had much time to practice together, but there was some sloppy flying today. We let too much Thread get past us and that’s not good.’ R’feem had that disappointed tone to his voice that was always far more effective at making you feel bad than any amount of shouting. ‘We should be setting the Benden riders an example as we’ve a lot more experience than they have.’

There were nods and noises of agreement from around the table at that.

‘So, from now on, we’ll be drilling every day until we get this Wing into fighting shape. And that brings me to my second point. Since the end of the last Pass we’ve all been guilty of letting ourselves go, fitness-wise. From tomorrow, we’ll have fitness sessions first thing before breakfast to make sure everyone’s in as good shape as their dragons. F’drun has kindly offered to supervise them.’

‘We’ll be meeting on that flat piece of ground by the lake. No excuses, no exceptions.’ For once, F’drun sounded happy.

D’gar groaned inwardly. The bastard was going to have a field day ordering them about and getting everyone to do absurd exercises.

‘That’s all.’ R’feem took a drink of klah. ‘Any questions?’

No one had any, or at least, none they wanted to voice in front of everyone else.

‘Well then, the rest of the day is yours to do as you please. Enjoy it. The hard work starts tomorrow.’

D’gar got up to see if there was any food to be had. He was suddenly aware of how long it had been since breakfast. Over by the night hearth he found a tray scattered with pieces of cheese, bowls of pickled vegetables and some slightly hard rolls. He sliced one open, stuffed some cheese and pickles inside then sat on his usual bench and began to eat. B’lin came over and sat down next to him. They hadn’t really talked much, but he seemed like a decent sort. Better than F’drun anyway.

‘Any idea what happened?’ he asked.

D’gar shook his head. ‘Apart from them being tired, no. They didn’t get Threadscored, just went _between_ to avoid a patch.’

‘I know you’d reported a few times they weren’t flying well.’ He sighed. ‘Wish I’d made him go back to the Weyr now.’

That was the downside of being Wingsecond. Responsibility for others, not just to yourself and your dragon. ‘He thought he was fine. Thought he could manage.’

‘Choliarth was injured quite badly a few months back, near the end of the Pass. C’don lost his weyrmate too. It hit him hard.’

That was a bit too close for comfort. ‘You know how it is. No one likes to let their wingmates down. It was his choice.’

B’lin was obviously in reflective mood. ‘We’d flown together for a few Turns in the same Wing. Looked out for each other…’

‘I’m sorry.’ There wasn’t much else to be said.

‘Well, thanks anyway. I’d better join the others. We’ll have a few more drinks for him tonight.’ He patted D’gar on the shoulder as he left.

As he prepared another roll - the first one had gone down far too quickly - M’rell beckoned him over. He was with most of the other Fort riders, huddled together in a group.

‘What is it?’

‘We’re talking about… you know who.’ He flicked a glance over to where F’drun was still sitting with R’feem, having some sort of discussion. It was notable that everyone else had left the table.

‘And?’

‘Someone needs to tell R’feem what he’s like.’

When M’rell said ‘someone’, he usually meant D’gar. ‘Well, how about you, then?’ D’gar took a bite from the second roll. ‘Or all of us? Mind you, he hasn’t really done anything yet worth complaining about.’

‘We all saw him drop your shirt on the floor earlier,’ J’rud pointed out.

‘Yes, but that’s not much to go on, is it?’

‘And there was the way he tried to provoke you yesterday.’

‘Same thing. It’s not enough. Look, we all know R’feem’s a fair Wingleader. Give it a bit of time and he’ll soon work it out for himself. If we say anything now, it just makes it look like we’re resentful. Especially if it comes from M’rell or me.’

J’rud frowned. ‘I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.’

‘Me neither. But hey, having to take some exercise isn’t any worse than what they used to make us do when we were weyrlings.’ It sounded so reasonable, he was almost convincing himself.

‘Depends on what sort of exercise it is.’ M’rell shook his head. ‘I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t trust him.’

‘And you’re probably right. But give him time and he’ll trip himself up.’ He finished eating, licking the crumbs off his fingers. ‘Right, I’ve got things to do.’

‘Like your weyrling?’ V’chal smiled.

He definitely had a one-track mind. ‘Actually, I need to clean and oil my straps. You’d probably be as well to do yours in case our favourite Wingsecond decides on a surprise inspection.’

It didn’t turn out quite as he’d planned, because Herebeth wanted to eat first. He was hungry enough to go for a herdbeast, which he despatched neatly and cleanly. D’gar sat in a sunny spot. Watching your dragon feed was always a good way to rid yourself of frustration. It was all too easy to imagine the slaughtered prey as someone you disliked.

As Herebeth slurped up the entrails, several other dragons swooped down. Not surprising really; they’d all worked hard today. One of them was Rioth.

D’gar glanced around. Several of the youngsters from Southern were on the other side of the feeding pen. He decided to pretend he’d not seen them. If H’rek came over, that would be of his own choice. No encouragement, remember, he told himself.

Rioth took out a large wherry. Herebeth continued to dismember his kill in the usual messy fashion, watching her as he ate. D’gar looked quickly across the pen. H’rek and his friends were talking together. They seemed subdued.

_Rioth says her rider is unhappy. You should speak to him._

_I will, if he comes over here._

_Why do you not go to him?_

_Because..._

Shells! Why was life so complicated? Why was his dragon so determined to get them together? D’gar looked again. H’rek caught his eye and raised a hand uncertainly.

_Go to him,_ Herebeth said.

Well, it wasn’t like he was trying to avoid the lad. Just giving him time to consider his options, that’s all. He got up slowly and went over. He knew the others were looking at him with a certain degree of curiosity. He was suddenly very aware that had the Weyrs not come forward, he would have been dead a few hundred Turns before they were all born. ‘I’m D’gar,’ he said to them. ‘Don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet.’

‘Oh, right.’ H’rek pointed them out, one by one. ‘These are some of my clutchmates. M’shol.’

A tall, well-built lad. Bronze rider, too. In fact, the majority were bronzes.

‘R’gan.’

R’gan seemed a bit reluctant to meet his eye. Maybe he’d been the one H’rek had told him about, who’d implied that he might not be able to remember what to do after four hundred Turns _between._

‘L’cal.’

Another tall one. Very composed and with an air of superiority. Typical bronze rider, in fact.

‘J’tir and B’dor.’

A green and blue. Possibly a couple, though weren’t they rather young to have paired up? Stop being judgemental, he told himself. S’brin and he had only been fourteen when they first got together.

There was a squeal from the pens as one of the bronzes caught a herdbeast rather awkwardly and dropped it again. The beast thrashed around as best it could with a broken back until the dragon came in for another go and managed to finish it off. H’rek winced slightly.

‘So, how was your Fall?’ D’gar asked, as you did, afterwards. The usual and expected reply was something along the lines of ‘not too bad’, even if it had been horrendous. Everyone was then free to move on to other topics.

They all looked at each other as if unsure how to reply. At last, L’cal did. ‘We’re all fine. But… someone died, didn’t they?’

Of course. They would have felt it, like everyone else did, through their dragons. He suddenly realised they’d not had much - if any - experience of death yet and had probably never been asked the question before. ‘We just had a drink for them.’

‘You knew them?’ L’cal asked, carefully.

‘C’don and Choliarth were in our Wing.’

‘What happened?’ That was from R’gan. 'Did they get hit by Thread?’

Anyone who had actually seen a few gruesome deaths wouldn’t even ask that.

Before he could reply, H’rek broke in. ‘R’gan. Leave it. He might not want to talk about it.’

H’rek was different. H’rek thought before he opened his mouth. ‘It’s fine,’ D’gar said, smiling briefly at him to show he’d appreciated the concern. ‘Nothing hit them. It would have done if Choliarth hadn’t gone _between._ They just didn’t come back out.’

‘Oh. Is that all?’ R’gan sounded disappointed.

‘Dead’s dead, however it happens.’ Maybe he should try to teach them something from it. ‘You never lost anyone _between_ during your weyrling training?’

A couple of them shook their heads.

‘You were lucky. Most clutches lose one or two. You’ve probably all been told many times you need to visualise your destination clearly. That’s what happens when you don’t. That’s why you need to have a place in your head that’s so well known, so ingrained that if something goes wrong - even if you’re badly wounded or half conscious - you can get there. Mostly, it’s your home Weyr. You can be sure of help there.’

They nodded. H’rek looked thoughtful. Then he said slowly, ’Our home Weyr was Southern. If we went there now, it’d be deserted.’

That was a good point. ’Then make sure you change it to Benden. Not much point escaping Thread if you bleed to death alone somewhere.’ It reminded him he should do the same himself; even though Fort Weyr was occupied, they were unlikely to be fighting Thread at the same time as Benden and he should make sure they returned here if he or Herebeth were injured.

Another bronze dragon felled his prey. The herdbeasts were panicking now, fleeing from the shadows above them. But they could only run so far, constrained by the fences.

‘You’d best let those beasts settle a while. Don’t want to scare them too much.’ They weren’t exactly in top condition anyway. Benden obviously didn’t get the best in their tithes. Although that was bound to change now that the Holders had a reason to be grateful for the protection of the Weyr.

H’rek sat down next to him on the bench. The others moved away slightly, leaning on the fence and watching their dragons. ‘Are you really all right?’ he asked quietly.

‘Fine. Honestly.’ Best to change the subject. ‘Do you have a sister working here?’

H’rek looked puzzled. ‘No.’

‘There’s a rather fierce woman in the laundry. She told me to look after you, or else.’

‘Oh, that’d be Bavi. She was down south, too. We’re good friends. Did she really say that?’

He nodded. ‘Threatened dire consequences to my clothes if I upset you.’

He smiled. ‘She can be a bit protective.’

‘Look.’ This was difficult. ‘I just wanted to say you don’t have to feel like you have to sleep with me again if you don’t want to.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded uncertain. ‘What if I do?’

‘Well, that’s all right then.’ It was a relief to hear that from him. ‘I didn’t want you to think there was some sort of obligation, just because of… those two.’ Rioth and Herebeth were sharing the last morsels of the herdbeast.

‘For someone bright, you can be really stupid at times.’ H’rek wriggled closer. ‘No one makes me do anything I don’t want to.’

They snuggled together. D’gar realised how right it felt, being with H’rek like this.

_That’s better,_ Herebeth said. He and Rioth were licking the gore off each other’s muzzles. It looked a bit like draconic kissing.

D’gar followed his example. H’rek seemed to enjoy it as much as Rioth was. When they finally broke off, he realised that all of H’rek’s clutchmates were staring at them. He also realised he wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon - this glorious afternoon they were both still alive to see - in long, slow loving with this man he cared about so much.

‘Shall we go back to my weyr?’ he asked.

‘I’d like that,’ H’rek said.


	8. Working Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempts to work things out aren't always successful.

‘I suppose we should go and get something to eat soon,’ D’gar said sleepily. The angle of the sun on the floor of his weyr indicated that the afternoon had turned to evening. Still, it was warm and comfortable here, lying next to H’rek. They’d spent a very pleasurable couple of hours; making love, dozing, relaxing. He realised that it had been so long since he felt this level of contentment, he’d almost forgotten the state existed.

H’rek propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I’m not that hungry yet.’

‘You had breakfast.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot.’

What does he see in me, D’gar wondered? I’m four hundred and twenty-three Turns old, I’m nothing special to look at and I puke up before every Threadfall.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘How lucky I am to have found someone like you who’ll put up with someone like me.’

H’rek smiled. ‘Well, that makes two of us. I was just thinking about earlier.’

‘Mmm. Good, wasn’t it?’

‘Not that.’ He punched D’gar’s arm, softly. ‘You have a one-track mind. Before. Threadfall.’

D’gar had managed to forget that totally, like a dragon, only living in the here-and-now. ‘What about it?’

‘That pair who died. What you were saying about them panicking when they went _between._ The lecture you gave us.’

‘Hope I didn’t sound too much like a pompous old git.’

‘Not really. But it sort of ties in with other things I’ve been thinking about. Remember what I said that first time we met, about them sending us back in time?’

‘Yes?’ His own brain was slowly starting to function again. ‘What about it?’

‘Well, if I tried to go _between_ to Southern on Rioth, would I end up there now or back then?’

D’gar considered for a few seconds. ‘Well, we’d hope now. The place isn’t going to have changed that much in a few days, is it?’ As he spoke, a stray thought nagged at the back of his mind, like a half-recalled dream. He teased at it, trying to get it into some sort of shape.

‘That depends on how long we’ve been back, doesn’t it? We returned to Benden the day after we left, but for me, nearly two Turns had passed. For Bavi, it was nearer to four. But that doesn’t necessarily mean…’ He paused. ‘What I’m trying to get my head around is… how long ago did we actually leave the place?’

‘Right. And that matters how?’ That annoying thought was still there. Something about changes…

‘Things grow really quickly there. If it was abandoned for very long, everything would be overgrown, wouldn’t it? So if I visualised it the way it was the day we left and it doesn’t look like that anymore, would we end up back in the past?’

Trees fall, rocks don’t. But sometimes rocks do fall. There had been a landslide at the far end of the Bowl at Fort, so long ago no one really remembered when. But if you visualised the Bowl without it… ‘Oh,’ he said, suddenly needing to find out more information. ‘Shells! I think I know what might have happened to C’don and Choliarth.’

‘What?’

He nodded. ‘Listen to this and tell me if it makes sense. Right? Now, let’s imagine that something really changes the way a place looks - there’s an earthquake, for example.’

‘Seas boil and mountains move…’ he quoted from the Teaching Ballad.

‘Exactly. So something that you had fixed in your mind one way is now different. If you and your dragon used the old visual, where would you go?’

H’rek screwed up his eyes. ‘Well, back, I suppose. Like I was just saying.’

‘Yes, but in your case, only a couple of Turns at most. We came forward in twenty-five Turn jumps because they don’t take that much longer than a normal _between_ places jump. So I’m guessing that you lot probably didn’t get sent much further back than ten or twenty Turns. But C’don and Choliarth… If something had happened to change the way Igen Weyr looks at some point during the past four hundred Turns, then they could have gone back a long, long way. Lessa nearly died from her jump back to our time. Maybe they weren’t so lucky. Or maybe they’re lost somewhere in time and just can’t get back…’

‘Yes, but the dragons keened. They know, don’t they? They didn’t keen for Ramoth when she and Lessa disappeared, because they were still alive somewhen.’

The faint hope he’d held for a moment died. ‘Well, even if those two are gone maybe it could save a few others. I just need to ask one of the Igen riders - B’lin probably as he’s Wingsecond.’

‘He’s not the nasty one you were telling me about?’

‘No, that’s F’drun.’

‘Tell you what. We could try it ourselves,’ H’rek said excitedly. ‘Your theory. We could try going _between_ to Southern. How about tomorrow? We’re on a routine patrol in the morning, but after that we’re free.’

D’gar sighed. ‘If only. We’ve got to get up at dawn for some stupid exercises - that’s thanks to F’drun again - and then have practice drills all afternoon.’ It would be much more pleasant to spend the afternoon on a tropical beach with H’rek.

‘What’s up with this F’drun? Can’t you talk to him and find out?’

‘My wingmates said the same. Well, they wanted me to talk to R’feem about him. But dropping my shirt in a puddle isn’t exactly serious stuff, is it?’

‘What?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘He did it to try and provoke me, I think. Like yesterday…’ Seeing H’rek’s puzzled expression, he explained what had happened the previous afternoon.

‘Sounds like he’s got some real problems. If I were you, I’d definitely have a talk with him. On his own though. Then he won’t feel like his authority’s being threatened.’

‘Why should he feel threatened by me? He’s a Wingsecond and a bronze rider at that. I’m just a wing rider.’

‘But you’ve got a brain and you use it. That bothers some people. Like my clutchmates. Especially the bronzes. I know - and they do - they’re meant be good leaders and sensible and all that, but most of them aren’t even particularly bright.’ H’rek smiled ruefully. ‘According to the stereotypes I should be nearly as forgetful as my dragon and only interested in gossip and sex. And you should definitely not be in bed with me.’

It was his turn to be puzzled. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, brown and bronze riders are supposed to only like women. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.’

‘People are a bit more complicated than that. I’ll agree with you that the majority of bronze riders - and quite a few browns - are attracted to women. Although if their dragon catches a green, they don’t have much choice in the matter. But back at Fort there were at least two bronze riders who had male partners. R’feem’s weyrmates with a woman now - one of the Healers at Fort - but he used to be with a blue rider.’ Had things changed so much over the Turns, he wondered. Or was it just down to H’rek not being Weyrbred and missing the nuances?

H’rek seemed to be thinking all that over. ‘I did sort of wonder. I mean, all these hints you’ve been dropping about whether we should be together. I thought you might be… well, keeping your options open.’

‘Don’t be daft. I’ve just been trying to make you realise it might not last because, well…’

H’rek rolled his eyes. ‘Someone might die. I know.’

‘But while we’re both alive, I don’t want to be with anyone else.’ There. He’d said it. Impulsively, he pulled H’rek closer, rolling over so that he ended up on his back with H’rek on top of him.

H’rek smiled slowly. ‘Think you can wait a while longer for dinner?’

The sun had moved quite a bit further around before they finally left the weyr. The Bowl was already in shadow and H’rek shivered as they made their way to the dining hall. ‘I still haven’t got used to how cold it is here.’

‘Be thankful you’re not at High Reaches, then.’

It was warm and welcoming in the dining hall. As they queued for food, D’gar spotted B’lin with the other Igen riders at their usual table. They had evidently got through most of a wineskin already, toasting the memory of their lost wingmate.

‘I’m going to talk to B’lin, if he’s not too drunk,’ D’gar said.

‘Do you want me to come along too?’

‘Better not.’ He wasn’t in their Wing or from their time. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I’ll join you in a while.’ He hoped H’rek would understand.

‘No, that’s fine. I’ll go and find my clutchmates.’

D’gar made his way over to the Igen table. ‘Mind if I sit with you?’

B’lin shrugged. ‘If you want. Wine?’ he asked, picking up the skin.

‘No thanks. Better eat something first.’

‘Suit yourself.’ He refilled his cup with a slightly unsteady hand so that it slopped over the edge onto the table. ‘So what brings you over here?’

‘Well, I wanted to have a word with you.’ He dipped some bread in his bowl of stew and took a bite. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been having some thoughts about what might have happened earlier on today.’

B’lin swigged some wine. ‘He panicked. Got it wrong. Very sad.’

‘Well, yes. But what I’ve been wondering is why did he get it wrong. They were a seasoned pair. You’d not expect them to make a weyrling mistake, would you?’

B’lin nodded in agreement. ‘Not normally. But we’re all unsettled. C’don more than most. Too many moves in too few days.’

‘I know. Can I just ask you something? Has your Weyr changed much over the last four hundred Turns? I mean the structure, the surroundings. The way things look.’

‘You ever been to Igen?’

‘We flew over it once or twice when we were training.’ Igen Weyr was surrounded by desert. They were probably still digging out all the sand that must have accumulated over so many abandoned Turns.

‘Igen changes more than most places. Sand scours the rocks all the time. Makes ‘em different shapes. When we arrived, these big dunes had piled up on the eastern side and the Star Stones were almost buried.’

That made sense and added support for his theory. ’What I’ve been wondering is if C’don was still using old coordinates. When he saw that clump coming down, he’d have acted instinctively. Used his “get home fast” visual. But it didn’t match any longer.’

Even through the alcoholic haze, B’lin evidently got it. ‘You mean he went back. To how it used to be.’ He shut his eyes briefly. ‘Shells!’

One or two of the others were starting to take an interest. ‘What’s that?’ asked a green rider.

‘D’gar here has a theory. Thinks C’don might have gone _between_ on an old visual.’

‘That’s right.’ He outlined the idea again.

People nodded. ‘That could have happened to any of us,’ said one of the blues.

‘That’s why I thought I should mention it. Guess it could apply - ’

‘What are you gossiping about?’ A large hand thudded down on the table. ‘Spreading rumours, I don’t doubt.’

D’gar knew who it was without looking up. He steadied his bowl of stew.

B’lin’s wine spilled before he could grab the cup. ‘Watch it, F’drun,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t talking to you.’ He seemed, as always, on the verge of an angry outburst.

D’gar met his gaze evenly. ‘Just getting to know some of my new wingmates better,’ he said pleasantly.

‘No harm in that.’ B’lin spoke with the care of one who has drunk a bit too much and knows it. ‘He might just have figured out something important, for your information.’ He turned to D’gar. ‘You should tell the Wingleader, too.’

‘I was going to.’

‘Tell him what?’ F’drun demanded. ‘Is it something about me?’

D’gar was fed up with this game. ‘Actually, F’drun, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to have a word with you. Can you spare a moment?’

F’drun glared at him. ‘Well?’

‘In private would be best.’

‘You can say it in front of your new friends, can’t you?’

D’gar forced himself to stay calm and reasonable. ‘I could. But I’d rather not.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we take a walk outside?’ He was aware of the Igen riders looking at him with new interest. Probably wondering if they’d see him in one piece again. For a moment he wasn’t sure if F’drun would follow at all, but a glance behind reassured him on that.

The light was starting to fade in the Bowl. Dragons were dropping their riders off and the entrance to the dining hall was busy as people congregated to chat with friends. D’gar walked far enough away for them to have some privacy, ducking just inside the entrance of one of the empty ground level weyrs. He turned to face F’drun.

‘So, what’s all this about?’ He was still full of bluster.

D’gar forced himself to smile in what he hoped was a friendly, open and unthreatening way. ‘I just wanted to talk, that’s all. Without an audience. I thought that maybe like this, just the two of us, we could talk sensibly. Be reasonable.’ He paused, letting that sink in, giving F’drun a chance to speak if he wanted to. But he just leaned against the wall, arms folded, his lips set in a thin line.

D’gar went on. ‘I don’t know why you’ve taken a dislike to me. If I’ve done anything - inadvertently - to upset you, I’ll apologise. Then we can start off on a fresh footing.’

F’drun still said nothing.

‘Well, have I done anything?’ he prompted.

F’drun stifled a yawn.

D’gar started to feel annoyed. ‘I’ll take that as a “no”, then.’ Having given him the benefit of the doubt to start with, he decided it was time to get to the point. ‘Look, I’ve heard you like to pick on someone and based on what’s happened today and yesterday, I suspect it’s me. I’m not happy about that.’

F’drun spoke at last. ‘i don’t care if you’re happy or not. None of us are here to be happy. We’re here to do a job.’

‘I get that. No one likes everyone they have to fly with, but we can all try to be civil to each other.’

He laughed. ’You’re just pissed off you didn’t get the job. That’s your problem.’

This wasn’t going well. ‘You’re wrong. I wouldn’t expect to be made Wingsecond over someone with Turns more experience than I have. But I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a piece of shit on your boot, either.’ Shards! He was sinking to the same level.

‘Don’t like taking orders, is that what you’re saying?’

Time to call it a day before he said anything else he might regret later. ‘It’s obvious there’s no reasoning with you, so I might as well save my breath.’

He started to leave, but F’drun moved quick as a tunnel snake and grabbed his arm. ‘I can do a lot worse, laddie. I can make you wish you’d never been born.’ His tone was full of menace.

‘Is that a threat?’ D’gar’s annoyance was beginning to disturb Herebeth. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his thoughts. Last thing he needed was an angry dragon deciding to interfere. This was the reason dragonriders shouldn’t fight, but it was clear F’drun didn’t care. He looked down at F’drun’s hand wrapped around his upper arm. ‘Let me go.’

F’drun stared at him for a few more moments, then released his grip. D’gar walked away, keeping half an eye on him, just in case he turned violent after all. No sensible person would, of course, but it was very clear now that F’drun was about as far from that as a person could be. He had a bad feeling he’d just made the situation worse.

Back in the dining hall, he went to finish his meal. B’lin looked at him quizzically. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘That man is…’ he could think of quite a few epithets to describe F’drun, but eventually settled for the least offensive. ‘Unreasonable.’

‘I could have told you that.’ B’lin took another swig of wine. ‘Want a drink now?’

‘Better not. Don’t forget we’ve got early morning exercises with that bastard tomorrow.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Most of the Wing are going to get hammered tonight.’ He looked down the table. ‘Aren’t we, boys?’ The rest of the Igen riders lifted cups and drank deeply.

It was what happened, after Threadfall. After death. He couldn’t - and wouldn’t want to - stop them. But he needed a clear head tomorrow to deal with whatever might get thrown at him. ‘See you in the morning, then.’ He picked up his bowl and went to find H’rek.

The Fort riders were in their usual spot, sharing part of the table with H’rek’s clutchmates. Most of his Wing as well as the riders from Telgar and Ista were seated in the same area. As D’gar made his way over, it was obvious that there was far more noisy conversation, laughter and drinking going on at those tables than in the rest of the dining hall. He noticed a few disapproving glances from some of the Benden riders. It was yet another example of the differences between them.

Most had finished their dinner already, not having had any interruptions. T’garrin was starting a game of Dragon Poker and encouraging some of the youngsters to join in. It was good to see some mixing going on, but he guessed that was due to their not having been assimilated into the Benden Wings yet.

Due to the game starting, a space had opened up next to H’rek. ‘Mind if I squeeze in here?’

‘You can squeeze in anytime,’ he smiled. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, B’lin confirmed what we’d already worked out, that Igen has changed a lot in the past four hundred Turns. He was glad for the information. F’drun was a different matter. Didn’t want to listen at all.’ He decided it was best not to mention the threats. It was probably all bluff anyway. All F’drun could ever really do was to try and aggravate him. As long as he managed to stay calm and not rise to the bait, he’d tire of it after a while. Maybe even move on to another victim.

‘Oh well, you tried.’ H’rek looked around. ‘Did you know you lot are getting some dirty looks from the rest of the tables?’

‘I noticed, yes.’

’N’ton came over a few minutes ago. Said they could make room for us with some of the Benden Wings at their tables if we wanted to move.’

‘Who’s N’ton?’

‘One of the bronze riders from Ramoth’s clutch. He’s going to get his own Wing soon. Might pick a few of us to be in it.’

‘Maybe you should keep on his good side, then. Did anyone go?’

‘Some of the bronzes.’

D’gar scraped the last morsels out of the bowl with a piece of bread. ‘If you want to get in a Wing sooner rather than later, maybe you should do the same.’

‘I’d rather stay here. With you. And I like your wingmates too. You seem a lot more… relaxed than the Benden folk. Although L’cal said it wasn’t proper, the way you’re all drinking and laughing when someone died today.’

D’gar sighed. ‘It’s just we’re more used to it, I think. Not that we don’t care, or anything. Those guys over there…’ he gestured towards the Igen riders. ‘They’ll be remembering all the funny stories about him and giving him a good send off.’

‘I can see the sense in that.’

‘Folk from here will do the same, give them a few Turns. So don’t feel bad about having some fun if you want to.’ He got up to return his empty bowl, one of the things his mother had always insisted on. It made life easier for the Lower Caverns workers if they didn’t have to go round all the tables to collect the pots for washing. On the way back he dropped by to talk to R’feem, who was at the far end of the table, staring into a cup of wine.

D’gar wondered if he was missing his weyrmate. As she didn’t have a dragon, they had no contact with each other. Bit sad, really. ‘Um, could I just run something by you?’

‘What is it?’

He spent a couple of minutes explaining what he’d already told B’lin.

‘That’s a very good point, lad. Well done for figuring it out.’

‘It wasn’t just me. H’rek helped.’ It wasn’t right to take all the credit.

‘That’s your green rider friend, is it?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘More than just a mating flight fling, then?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Good.’ R’feem put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll have a word with the rest of the Wing tomorrow.’


	9. The Lake Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F'drun stirs up more trouble.

D’gar woke up in the same bed as H’rek again, the only difference being that this time they were in H’rek’s weyr rather than his own. All of the young riders had overindulged the previous evening. It had been slightly unfair on them that some of his own wingmates had encouraged it and they had several more Turns hard drinking experience behind them. They’d proceeded to drink the youngsters under the table.

D’gar had been careful and had made two cups of wine last him the entire evening. The last thing he'd wanted was to have to face F’drun first thing in the morning with a hangover. H’rek had been so unsteady on his feet by the end of the evening, it would have been folly to even let him try to ride Rioth back to his weyr. Instead, they’d both flown up on Herebeth. He’d considered - briefly - leaving the lad alone but had decided that that wouldn’t be responsible. It was a good thing he’d stayed. H’rek had vomited several times before finally settling down. D’gar had stayed awake for some time before he could be sure it was safe enough to drop off himself.

He sat up and quickly put on his clothes, then had a look around the weyr. It was similar to his own, over on the opposite side of the Bowl, but H’rek had managed to make it more homely by placing some of his possessions in the various niches. There were patterned sea shells and some oddly shaped seed pods which must be from plants that only grew in the south. Bright wall hangings and a couple of thick rugs that were of superior quality than those provided by the Weyr, brought warmth and colour to the otherwise drab surroundings.

D’gar walked out to the ledge, past the sleeping dragons. Timor, a thin crescent, was just sinking below the rim of the Bowl. The outline of the watch dragon, up near the Star Stones, was a dark silhouette against the dawn sky. He wondered what time F’drun wanted them to assemble and guessed it would probably be a lot earlier than most folk were comfortable with, just to spite them. If he had any consideration, he’d have Ryth bespeak the other dragons but D’gar guessed he’d prefer to berate people for not arriving on time, even if they didn’t know exactly what time they had been supposed to be there.

Herebeth opened an eye. _What are you doing up so early? It’s not Threadfall today._

_We’re supposed to be doing some exercise. I don’t want F’drun to have any excuse to say I’m late, so I thought I’d beat him to it._

_Does that mean I have to get up too?_ He gave a soft huff.

_You can always come back up here after you’ve dropped me off. You and Rioth can have a laugh watching us all._

_Hmm. Think I will._

In the steadily growing light (although the Weyr Bowl was still as grey as regurgitated firestone) he saw a pale bronze dragon glide past to land on the training ground beside the lake. F’drun dismounted, looked around, then leaned against his dragon’s flank while he waited. D’gar watched them for a little while, wondering if he’d unfairly misjudged the man. No, it didn’t look as if he was going to give anyone a wake-up call. Oh well, that could be easily remedied.

_Herebeth. Tell the other dragons in our Wing they need to take their riders down to the training grounds. Our instructor is waiting._

It wasn’t too long before he started to get replies, relayed via Herebeth. _Toth’s rider says he feels too ill to get out of bed yet. Melth thanks us and says they’ll be there shortly. Ondiath too. Lilith’s rider says you should go and do something that sounds physically impossible._

It was obvious that most of the riders had got the message and were trying to comply. At least they’d had a warning. If they chose to ignore it, that was up to them.

When he saw the first couple of dragons winging past, he mounted Herebeth and had him glide down. He wouldn’t be first there, so F’drun would have no reason to suspect he’d been the one to alert the Wing, unless someone told him.

They landed close to the others. D’gar was glad he’d put on a sweater. It was chilly enough to see your breath on the air this early in the morning and some of the shallower puddles bore thin caps of ice. Yes, it was definitely much colder here than at Fort.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ T’garrin asked, sliding off Belloth very gently. ‘My head feels like someone’s installed a drum tower inside it.’

‘I didn’t drink that much.’

‘Wish I hadn’t either.’

A few more dragons arrived, M’rell and Toth among them. M’rell looked deathly pale and leaned against Toth for support. F’drun stood up straight and did a head count, then called everyone to order. ‘I’ve given the Wingleader a lie in,’ he said. ‘He’ll be joining us later, though. But until then, I’m in charge. Now, first things first, you can all tell your dragons to clear off. You’ll not be needing them this morning.’

One by one, the dragons left. Finally, Ryth took wing as well, although he didn’t go far, perching on the ledge of one of the unused weyrs just above the lake.

‘Let’s see how unfit you lot are, then. Once round the main track, at a decent pace. Ryth will be watching as well as me, so don’t cheat and try to take a short cut.’

D’gar stripped off his sweater. He wouldn’t need it for long. He liked running, although he wasn’t as fit as he’d been when S’brin was alive. S’brin had been an obsessive runner and had encouraged D’gar to join him in circuits around the Bowl. Most mornings he’d done just that, except when the weather was really foul. He set off at a steady pace, just behind T’burrad, V’vil and their colleague from High Reaches, T’rai. They all seemed to be used to exercise. If his fellow Fort riders hadn’t overdone it the night before, they’d probably not have suffered so much. Some of them were trailing quite a way behind, he realised when the track curved around enough for him to see. Most of the Igen riders weren’t doing as well as they might, either. B’lin was doing his best to encourage them although he must be in a similar hung-over state.

_Glad I’m a dragon,_ Herebeth commented. D’gar glanced up. He and Rioth were sitting out on the ledge, watching.

_Just wait until this afternoon. Lots of drills for you then._

By the time they’d come full circle, D’gar was out of breath, although not as much as he’d thought he might be. He came to a stop beside the High Reaches riders.

‘Don’t be thinking it’s over yet,’ V’vil warned. ‘That was just a warm up. He’ll save the really hard stuff until everyone’s knackered.’

F’drun waited until they had all made it back. The last of the Igen riders was visibly limping. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Round again. Faster this time. Whoever’s last has to swim across the lake. Should be freezing in there this morning.’

‘Hang on,’ B’lin said. ’K’fol’s not up to it. He’s recovering from a broken ankle.’

F’drun smiled nastily. ‘That’s his problem. No excuses, no exceptions. Unless you want to take his dip for him.’

‘Now that’s not fair.’

‘Death’s not fair. Thread’s not fair. Why should I be?’

There were grumbles from quite a few riders, but no one said anything directly to F’drun. He scanned all of them, as if daring anyone to complain.

‘B’lin’s a Wingsecond too. He doesn’t have to take this.’ T’garrin had come up alongside D’gar.

‘Don’t know if he’s up to challenging F’drun, though.’ D’gar watched as B’lin left K’fol standing on his good leg and went over to talk to F’drun. It didn’t last long. Shaking his head, he came back to join the rest.

‘Well, I wouldn’t fancy it either.’ T’garrin said. ‘Still, at least none of us will be last. Though M’rell’s not looking too good.’

‘That’s his own fault.’

‘Right. Get going,’ F’drun shouted. Several riders ran off straight away, at a fast pace. The rest followed in a straggling line.

D’gar pondered over whether to join them. It would be sensible to keep his head down as F’drun would be looking for any excuse to pick on him. Although after yesterday evening, he was fairly sure that even if he did everything perfectly, F’drun would still find fault. Besides, it looked like B’lin needed some support. So, instead of running, he walked over to where B’lin and K’fol still stood. ‘How’s your ankle?’

‘It’s not too bad. Just not as strong as the other one. The healer said I should try to keep off it as much as I can. Riding’s no problem now, but walking any distance isn’t good…’ he shook his head. ‘And running just sharding hurts too much.’

‘Best not to do it, then.’

B’lin looked over towards F’drun. ‘You heard what he said.’

‘Yes, but I’d take a healer’s advice over his any day. If I were you, I’d sit it out. You’d be last anyway and you’ll just make it worse.’

‘Yes, but…’ K’fol looked distressed.

‘Didn’t you lot hear me?’ F’drun was on his way over. ‘Get running.’

D’gar waited for B’lin to say something. When it became clear he wasn’t going to he realised it was up to him. ‘This rider doesn’t need the infirmary right now, but if he runs on it, he will. Try explaining that to R’feem when he gets here.’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘Not much point in keeping fit if it injures people.’

‘I agree.’ B’lin said, at last. ‘D’gar’s right.’

F’drun grinned. ‘Well, if you all want a dip in the lake that’s fine by me.’

‘I thought you said it was whoever came last,’ D’gar pointed out, knowing exactly what he was about to let himself in for.

‘Well, which one of you is it, then?’

D’gar took a deep breath. ‘That’ll be me.’ It wouldn’t be enjoyable, but he’d done it before. S’brin had liked to swim with the dragons in one of the mountain lakes which were freezing all Turn round. He’d persuaded D’gar to try it too. It had never been his idea of fun, but he probably had more experience of swimming in cold water than any of the others.

F’drun stalked away. ‘Are you mad?’ B’lin asked.

D’gar smiled. ‘Ask my wingmates.’ He watched the runners for a while. Ideally, there should be blankets waiting. They’d always got a fire going too, with hot klah ready for afterwards. But this wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. They were only a short dragon’s hop to the Lower Caverns where there were warm hearths and an endless supply of klah. He’d be fine. Still, just in case…

_Herebeth. Be ready to fish me out, will you?_

_What are you doing?_

_Going for a swim. Well, you did yesterday. It can’t be too bad._

_I am a dragon. You are not. The water is very cold._

_So was that mountain lake and we both swam in that._

The first riders had made it back. They were a lot more out of breath this time. The last few made a race of it, no one wanting to be last. M’rell just beat one of the Igen riders to the finish, punching the air in triumph before sitting down heavily as his legs gave way.

F’drun beckoned them all around. ‘Well now, who came in last?’

The unfortunate rider stuck up his hand.

‘Lucky for you there’s someone to take the dip for you, then.’

There was a look of disbelief on his face, turning to relief as he realised it wasn’t just a joke.

F’drun turned to him. ‘Well, go on. Or do I have to throw you in?’

‘No. I said I’d do it.’ He quickly undressed, then walked to the water’s edge. The pebbles were sharp edged, not rounded as on a beach and they hurt his feet. The water touching his toes was… sharding freezing! He shut his eyes briefly and visualised the mountain lake; S’brin and Zemianth floating in the deep water, Herebeth surfacing from a dive. He waded slowly out towards them, ignoring the pain of the chill water touching his skin. Experience told him it would ease off after a short while.

‘Get on with it!’ F’drun shouted. ‘We’ve not got all day.’

He was up to his waist, getting used to the cold and keeping his breathing steady while preparing to fully immerse himself when something hit him heavily from behind then dragged him out of his depth. He gasped for breath and took in water instead of air. Choking, he struggled for the surface. Something stopped him. Held him down. There was a dark shadow above. He tried to come up clear of it, saw a dragon’s talons far too close to his face and ducked back under. It felt as cold as between. Almost as dark, too. And no air. The cold made his legs heavy and feeble, but he struck out for the surface a second time, only to be pushed down again.

Then there was sudden brightness; a glimpse of sky. With the last of his strength he managed to get his head above the icy water. Sound rushed back. Dragons roared in anger. One screamed. Abruptly, he was plucked from the depths, hoisted aloft and set down on the shore, gasping and puking up water.

He was cold; bone-chillingly cold. A dragon stood over him. Herebeth, on guard and hissing in anger at anyone who tried to get too close. He could feel the rage in his dragon’s mind, but couldn’t offer any reassurance. His brain didn’t seem to be working properly. Mind you, neither were his arms and legs, as he realised when he tried to push himself up and failed miserably. He coughed up more water. It hurt.

Another dragon landed at a distance. Green legs, green tail. Herebeth calmed slightly. Someone ran over and draped him with bed furs. ‘Are you all right?’ H’rek asked.

He tried to reply, but now his teeth were chattering too much. And his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. All he could do was to hold H’rek’s hand and nod.

‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ H’rek shouted to the other riders. ‘Get klah. And more furs.’

It was still difficult to breathe, although he thought he’d brought up all the water he’d swallowed.

‘Can you reassure Herebeth? People need to get to you and he won’t let them.’

He nodded. _I’m all right. No one wants to hurt me._

_They tried. That man and that dragon. Get that dragon away._

D’gar didn’t understand. _Rioth? You want Rioth to move?_

_Not Rioth. The bronze._

Talking was just about possible. But although he knew what he wanted to say, the chattering teeth, the shivering and the raw state of his throat and lungs meant that he couldn’t make himself understood.

_Herebeth. I can’t talk right now. Get Rioth to tell H’rek what you want._

‘I’ll tell them, don’t worry, ‘H’rek said gently, a short while later. ‘We’ll get you in the warm soon.’

There were more people arriving now. Someone sounded like they were taking charge, although he didn’t recognise the voice.

‘Thanks,’ he managed to croak.

Then Herebeth moved to one side, still protective, but much calmer and several more people crouched down around him. ‘Are you injured?’

He shook his head. ‘Cold.’

H’rek helped him to sit up and held a steaming mug of klah to his lips. ‘Take a drink. It’ll warm you up.’

‘Did you see what happened?’ someone asked.

H’rek nodded. ‘I saw everything. All these riders did too. He…’ he pointed over to his left. ‘Set his dragon on D’gar. Could have killed him.’

After that, things moved fast. He was carried over to the infirmary, Herebeth wheeling above, unwilling to let him out of his sight. Even when they got him inside, the dragon kept trying to stick his head through the doorway, thoroughly blocking it for anyone trying to get in or out.

_It’s all right,_ he kept saying. _I’m fine, really. I’ll be back with you soon._

_I will not let them hurt you._

_No one’s going to hurt me. H’rek’s here. He won’t let anyone hurt me._

That seemed to do the trick. Herebeth reluctantly moved his head. _I will stay out here. I will not let that man or his dragon near you._ He still sounded fierce.

They brought numbweed and started slathering it on his shoulders. He’d not even realised until then that he’d suffered any injury.

‘It’s not too bad,’ H’rek reassured him. ‘Herebeth dug his talons in a bit when he was pulling you out.’

‘Just a few cuts and punctures,’ said the healer. ‘You’re lucky your dragon was so careful with picking you up.’

Once tucked up in a bed, D’gar gradually began to feel warmer. H’rek sat next to him, looking concerned and offering him more klah to drink. ‘You’re as bad as my mother,’ he said. It came out as a hoarse whisper, but at least he was getting his voice back.

‘Someone needs to look after you. What were you even thinking of, getting in that lake?’

‘F’drun said…’ he coughed again. ‘Said whoever came last had to swim. I volunteered.’

‘You’re mad, you know.’

‘B’lin said that too.’

H’rek fussed with the blankets. ‘Let’s hope that bastard gets in real trouble for this. Getting his dragon to push you under was stupid at best, murderous at worst.’

So that’s what had hit him in the back. ‘Don’t think he meant to hurt me.’

‘Who are you trying to kid? It looked like it from where I was. He shouldn’t be in charge of anyone.’ H’rek sounded angry.

The sound of boots on the stone floor alerted him that someone was coming. He looked up to see R’feem approaching. Time for the inevitable questions, no doubt.

The Wingleader glanced at H’rek, then at D’gar. He pulled up a chair. ‘Well, you know why I’m here, don’t you? Care to tell me your version of what happened?’

D’gar cleared his throat and started to recount the story. He got up to the point where he was wading into the lake and something hit him, when H’rek interrupted. ‘I can fill in from there. I saw everything.’

R’feem nodded. ‘Go on, then.’

‘I’d been on the ledge for a little while at that point. Herebeth was restless and Rioth woke me up. I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but I saw the bronze dragon swoop down and push D’gar under the water. Hovered above him, too, so he couldn’t surface. Herebeth just hurled himself off the ledge and went straight for him. The two dragons… well, they fought. I think the bronze got called off, but you’d have to ask his rider about that. He flew off, anyway. Then Herebeth pulled D’gar out. I grabbed some furs and got down there right away.’

So that explained why Herebeth had been so upset. D’gar remembered hearing a dragon scream. Anger, or pain? ‘Is Ryth hurt?’ he asked. Herebeth must be all right, or he’d know.

‘Got bitten, apparently. Not too badly, though.’

D’gar shut his eyes. Dragons fighting was about the worst thing that could happen in a Weyr. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘You’ve no need to be,’ H’rek butted in. ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ he said to R’feem. ‘Herebeth just wanted to protect him.’

‘You’re not doing a bad job yourself.’ There was humour in the Wingleader’s tone.

‘Well, I care about him.’

‘Evidently. Would you mind leaving us for a short while, lad? We’ve got Wing business to discuss.’

H’rek glanced at D’gar querulously.

‘Go on. It’s fine. Could you check Herebeth over for me? He says he’s all right, but I didn’t know I had any injuries until later.’

‘Sure.’ He left reluctantly.

When he’d gone, R’feem looked around. ‘I’d rather talk somewhere more private, but this won’t wait.’

Some of the nearby beds were occupied, although everyone appeared to be sleeping. D’gar braced himself for the expected telling off.

‘Well, this is a mess. Half the Weyr heard those dragons fighting, for all that it was so early. I’ve got the Weyrleader himself demanding to know what was going on.’

‘The Weyrleader. How did he find out?’ It was worse than he’d thought.

‘His brother saw most of it. This sort of thing doesn’t look good on us at all.’

‘I know.’ He felt absurdly guilty. But it hadn’t really been his fault. If F’drun had just let him swim, then everything would have been fine. That didn’t excuse the bad impression they’d made, though.

‘Everyone’s been telling me what happened. All I’ve got to figure out now is why.’

‘I don’t think F’drun intended to actually hurt me,’ he said again, although not entirely sure if he believed it. ‘He just went a bit too far. He doesn’t like me very much.’

‘Any reason for that?’

‘None that I can figure out. The others from High Reaches told us it’s just what he does. Picks on someone at random so everyone else is scared to cross him. Guess I’m the unlucky one.’

‘I’ve heard a few rumours about High Reaches myself. But you know how Weyr gossip is. The Weyrwoman goes down with a mild cold and next thing they’re saying she’s on her deathbed.’

He nodded. ‘Wonder what’s going to get back about this?’

‘Only what T’ron hears from me.’ R’feem sighed heavily. ‘It was always going to be difficult putting a Wing together from different Weyrs. The only consolation I have is that W’lir from Telgar’s having some problems of his own. No, my main issue at the moment is what to do with you.’

D’gar felt a bit sick. ’Are you going to send me back to Fort?’ he asked quietly. It would mean leaving H’rek, being alone again.

‘Why should I do that? It wasn’t you who started it. Although F’drun says you’re an insubordinate troublemaker…’

That was typical. ‘Oh.’

‘Thing is, I know you better than that. You’ve never caused me any bother before, so why should you do it now? Ideally, I’d like to get rid of F’drun but they don’t want him back, so we’re stuck with him. But there's no way I'd have him as a Wingsecond after this.’

That came as something of a relief. However unpleasant it would be having to work with F’drun, at least they would both be on the same level. ‘That other bronze from High Reaches…’ D’gar searched his memory for the name. ‘V’vil. He might be all right as Wingsecond. Or M’rell, of course.’

R’feem snorted. ‘M’rell’s brains are in his trousers. And he’s always been a follower rather than a leader.’

‘Isn’t that a good trait for a brown rider?’

‘So they say. But I’d rather have a Wingsecond who can think for himself. Who could take control if anything happened to me and not make a total mess of it.’

‘I suppose you could always ask if one of the Benden Wingseconds could fill the position.’

‘That’d be one solution. Or I could promote another rider from our Wing. I think I know someone who has the ability to step up to the role.’

’You’d need to pick someone they can look up to. Someone with Turns of experience.’

‘Except I haven’t got those and I’m not going to take another chance with anyone I don’t know well.’ He fixed D’gar with a level gaze. ‘I’d have to pick a rider who’s had a few ups and downs but can still do a better job than some who are Turns older. Someone who’s got everyone’s respect after this morning’s work. So, I’m offering you the Wingsecond position.’

D’gar thought he’d better point out the potential pitfalls there. ‘What about F’drun. He doesn’t respect me.’

‘Lad, he’s the type who thinks he’s better than everyone. He’ll keep a civil tongue in front of me because I’m in charge. But there’s more to being a leader than bullying folk and he’s not learned that lesson, for all his Turns. Dealing with him won’t be easy. But I’m hoping he’ll settle down, now he knows we aren’t going to tolerate that sort of behaviour.’

‘I…er, don’t know what to say.’

‘Yes would be a start.’

‘Well, then… yes.’ It was more than he’d hoped for. Much more. ‘I’d better get out of here and get ready for the drills this afternoon, then. Did anyone bring my clothes?’

R’feem stopped him when he tried to sit up. ‘You might be numbed at the moment, but the healer says you shouldn’t fly _between_ for a few days until those wounds have scabbed over.’

‘Shard it!’

‘He also said you’ll feel a lot worse tomorrow. So, give yourself a few days rest in your weyr, then come back fighting fit.’ He patted the bag he was carrying. ‘And just so you don’t feel as if you’re skiving off, there’s some records here need updating. Never enjoyed all the admin myself, but I’m sure you’ll make short work of it.’


	10. Responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While recovering in the infirmary, D'gar finds out more about Benden Weyr and modern times.

After R’feem and H’rek had left him, D’gar managed to sleep for a while. When he woke again, his stomach was telling him it must be near lunchtime. The numbweed was still doing its work, so he didn’t feel too bad at all. In fact, if they’d only left him some clothes, he’d have been up and about.

He sat up and looked around the infirmary cavern. There were two other occupied beds near to his. The man to his right was sleeping, but over on the opposite side, another rider, of a similar age to R’feem, was sitting up and talking with a slightly built blond woman. His head was swathed in bandages which extended to cover his left eye. Partially healed Thread scores stood out in livid relief down his neck and left shoulder.

‘Excuse me,’ D’gar called across. ‘Do they bring food over here or do you have to ask someone?’ He’d been thinking of getting Herebeth to bespeak Rioth, although he remembered H’rek had said something about flying patrols this morning.

The woman stood up and came over. ‘I’m just about to fetch some lunch for Gr'lon. Would you like me to get you something as well?’

‘If it’s no bother.’

‘Not at all.’ She was softly spoken and had a warm smile for him. ‘I’m Chenna.’

‘D’gar.’

‘What do you like to eat, D’gar?’

‘Anything, really. I missed breakfast this morning so I’m starving now.’

‘I’ll see what I can find.’ She turned back to Gr'lon. ‘Back soon, darling.’

He watched her leave, then turned to D’gar. ‘So what happened to you, then?’

‘I, er… fell in the lake.’ It was probably best not to say too much, although Weyr gossip being what it was, the story was bound to get out sooner rather than later.

‘You’re not from here, are you?’

‘No. Fort Weyr.’

He sighed. ‘Time was, a man knew every rider and dragon on Pern. So you came forward with Lessa?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Wish I’d seen it myself. Mind you, I wasn’t in very good shape when you all arrived. Got this lot at Nerat, first scorching Threadfall we fought.’

‘Bad luck.’ He’d heard there’d been quite a few casualties that day. It was hardly surprising, with every man and dragon lacking practical experience of Threadfighting.

‘Still, at least Kolth’s all right.’

Typical too, for a rider to be more concerned about his dragon. ‘That’s good. You’ll be back up in the air again as soon as those scores have healed enough for you to be able to go _between_.’

‘Really?’ He sounded hopeful. ‘The healers said it could be months.’

‘Oh, I doubt it’ll be that long. They’ll need you back in action to fill the gaps.’ At the end of the Eighth Pass, there had always been a rush to get men back to the Wings. The theory had been that the longer you stayed grounded, the more likely you were to lose your nerve. And as dragons usually mended quicker than their riders, if the dragon healers were happy, the pair would be pronounced fit for duty again.

‘It’s the eye I’m worried about,’ Gr'lon’s hand went to the bandages. ‘There’s a chance I might not be able to see too well out of it.’

That wouldn’t be good. Not impossible to overcome though.’We had a couple of one-eyed riders at Fort. It’s not as bad as losing, say, an arm.’

Gr'lon winced, then gestured over to the sleeping man. ‘Like that poor sod. Well, he’s not lost it, but there’s not much left of it. He’s dosed up with fellis, so he sleeps most of the time. In fact, I’m glad you turned up in here. It’s boring, with no one else to talk to.’

‘I’m hoping to get out of here later, myself. I’d rather recover in my own weyr.’

He nodded in agreement and they carried on chatting long enough for D’gar to find out that Gr'lon was a Wingsecond in R’gul’s Wing.

‘He used to be Weyrleader, you know.’

He hadn’t. But then he remembered that just after the mating flight R’feem had said something about him having punched the former Weyrleader. ‘Is he a tall, broad-shouldered man? Bushy eyebrows and dark hair?’

‘That’s him. You’ve met?’

‘Um, briefly.’ He hoped R’gul wouldn’t be coming to visit Gr'lon before he got out of the infirmary. ‘Does he visit you often?’

Gr’lon shook his head. ‘No, no. He’s far too busy.’

That came as something of a relief, even if it seemed rather inconsiderate. R’feem had always visited injured riders regularly to keep their spirits up.

Just then Chenna returned, carrying a laden tray, which put a stop to any awkward questions. ‘I’ve brought a selection. There’s wherry stew, tubers, greens, bread, cheese and a selection of fruit. I’ll put it over here, then you can help yourself. Sorry if the stew’s slopped over a bit. There’s a brown dragon lying right outside the entrance and I nearly tripped over his tail.’

_Herebeth, are you still outside?_

_Of course. I will stay here until you are better._

_Well, could you shift over a bit. People are having trouble getting past you, you great lump._

‘It’s my dragon,’ he admitted. ‘I just asked him to move. He’s feeling protective right now.’

Chenna looked at him. ‘So you must be the rider someone tried to drown? And your dragon pulled you out?’

It had got around already. He wasn’t entirely surprised. ‘That’s me. Although I don’t think he actually intended to drown me, just thought he’d teach me a lesson.’

‘Sounds as if there’s a story there,’ Gr'lon said, helping himself to stew and bread. ‘Come and get some food, lad.’

‘I’d love to, but I, er, don’t have any clothes.’

‘Oh, it’s all right,’ she said picking up on his concerns. ‘I was Holdbred, but I’m used to Weyr ways now, so don’t worry yourself about it.’

‘Chenna was Searched,’ Gr'lon said. ‘Same time as Lessa Impressed Ramoth.’

‘And obviously, I didn’t Impress,’ she said. ‘But by then I’d met him, so I decided I’d rather stay than go home and be married off to someone I didn’t even like.’

He got out of bed, still feeling slightly self-conscious, although she had the grace to busy herself with Gr'lon’s pillows while he fetched his food.

He’d got back to bed and had a few mouthfuls when Gr'lon spoke. ‘So, are you going to tell us?’

Well, if it was going to get around (with plenty of exaggeration, no doubt) someone might as well hear the truth. So as he ate, he told them the basics of what had happened. ‘And that’s why Herebeth has decided to stay out there to make sure F’drun doesn’t get near me again. You know how dragons can be.’

‘This F’drun’s not going to be pleased about being demoted, is he?’

‘No, Especially as I’ve been given his old job. But I’ll just have to deal with that when it comes to it.’

‘I’m surprised he’s been allowed to stay here at all. If R’gul was still in charge, he’d have packed him off straight back to - where was it?’

‘High Reaches. Thing is, it’s not that simple. They all got sent here because the Weyrleader doesn’t like them, so I doubt he’d have one of them back, whatever he’d done. Back in the old days, he might have got transferred on to another Weyr, but everyone’s in such a mess at the moment, it’s the last thing on their mind. Believe me, when a Weyr’s abandoned for that long, it’s not a pretty sight.’ That got a laugh from them. ‘You said before that R’gul used to be Weyrleader here. How long ago was that?’

‘Until late last Turn, when Ramoth rose for the first time. To be honest, I was surprised. Thought Lessa would have shown some gratitude towards the man who taught her all she knows.’

Chenna sighed. ‘Yes, but we all know how reluctant R’gul was to believe that Thread was going to return. Then there was all that bother when some of the Lord Holders rose up against us. They turned up outside the Weyr making demands, you know.’

D’gar was shocked. ‘Holders marched on the Weyr?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Gr’lon confirmed. ‘Although not entirely without reason. Some of the less responsible Wingleaders had been raiding their Holds.’

‘Only because the tithes were so stingy,’ Chenna countered.

D’gar hoped they weren’t going to start arguing in front of him, although he was intrigued enough by what they were saying that he wanted them to continue. ‘So, what happened? What did R’gul do?’ he asked.

‘Well, it was the day after Ramoth rose, so he wasn’t in a position to do anything. The new Weyrleader sent riders out to kidnap the Holders’ ladies and hold them hostage.’

D’gar laughed. ‘Good for him. That’s the sort of treatment they deserved. T’ron - that’s our Weyrleader - would have done the same under the circumstances. He drives a hard bargain with the Holders when it comes to tithing. There was this one time when they sent us a load of diseased herdbeasts, so he just sent a Wing to pick the best out of the Lord’s prize flock. Didn’t happen again, I can tell you.’ He laughed at the memory, then stopped when he realised Chenna and Gr'lon were looking at him askance. ‘Well, it’s only what they owe us, isn’t it? “Honour those the dragons heed,” and all that. Your new Weyrleader might try doing the same. I noticed some pretty scrawny stock in the feeding grounds the other day.’

‘What we’re getting now is good,’ Gr'lon said, a little defensively.

‘Yes,’ Chenna added. ‘I remember when I arrived at the Weyr I was appalled at the poor quality of the food we were served.’

‘Before Thread fell, we were rationed most of the time. Even the dragons weren’t allowed to eat as much as they wanted.’ Gr’lon shook his head. ‘Those were bad times. R’gul wasn’t the only one to believe Thread was gone for good. A lot of the Holders saw the Weyr as parasites.’

D’gar tried to get his head around this. It was so different to his own time it was hard to imagine. And yet, even after just a few months of clear skies at the end of the last Pass, the gratitude owed to dragons and their riders had begun to fade. After four hundred Turns - especially when the expected previous Threadfall had failed to materialise - was it any wonder there’d be that kind of attitude? ‘Well, I’m glad I wasn’t around to see it. And they’ll have to change their ideas now, won’t they?’

‘Most will. Most already have. But there are still a few who resent having to rely on us.’

Like those fisherfolk he and M’rell had encountered. Maybe that hadn’t been an anomaly, after all.

‘And if your Weyrleader tries tactics like that on modern Holders it could turn nasty,’ Gr’lon added.

D’gar smiled at that. ‘I’d like to see ‘em get nasty with dragons around. Bit of flame always does the trick.’ Noticing their pained expressions, he hastily added. ‘Not the people, of course. But burn a few carts or the like and they’ll come around.’

‘Hey, D’gar! Still with us, then?’ M’rell shouted out from the doorway, loudly enough that the sleeping rider groaned and briefly opened his eyes.

‘Sshh,’ D’gar warned, a finger to his lips. ‘There’s a badly scored man here trying to sleep.’

Three of them came in; M’rell, J’rud and G’reden. In the quiet stillness of the infirmary, they seemed much too loud and full of life.

‘They’ve just been telling me what happened to you,’ G’reden said. ‘Sounds like I’ve missed all the fun.’

‘It wasn’t much fun from my point of view.’

‘Yeah, but F’drun getting his comeuppance was. Now he’s only a wingrider, we can take the piss out of him as much as we want. Well done, mate.’ M’rell clapped him on the back before remembering that was where he was injured. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all right. Numbweed’s still working. So how’s Jekkoth?’ he asked G’reden.

‘Cleared for duty. It was only a little score, after all. So I’ll be flying the next Fall. How about you?’

D’gar shook his head. ‘Not until these cuts heal up, they said. Still, R’feem’s given me loads of admin to do so I won’t get bored.’

‘Oh yes. We came here to congratulate you,’ J’rud put in. ‘Firstly, for getting rid of F’drun -‘

‘And secondly, on your promotion.’ M’rell smiled broadly. He stood to attention. “Wingsecond. Sir!’

‘You won’t thank me when I have you lot running around the Bowl with bags of firestone.’

M’rell’s face fell. ‘You wouldn’t?’

It was always fun to wind up M’rell. ‘Fitness is very important. I’ve got a few ideas to try out.’

‘As long as they don’t involve swimming in the lake.’ J’rud said. ‘Why did you even do that?’

‘Because I’m mad?’ He sighed. ‘With hindsight, it wasn’t very sensible.’

‘It was less stupid than what F’drun did,’ M’rell added.

‘Got his dragon to do,’ J’rud corrected. ’V’vil said he’s done it before though. Apparently it was a favourite punishment of his at High Reaches, making people swim in the lake. He used to get Ryth to pull them out once he thought they’d been in there long enough.’

D’gar started to feel cold again at the thought of how low the water temperature must be at High Reaches. ‘I’m glad Ryth didn’t pull me out. Herebeth was probably a bit more careful about it.’ He leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice so Gr’lon and Chenna didn’t overhear. ‘What’s the general feeling about all of this?’

J’rud sat on the edge of his bed. ‘R’feem’s acting very serious. F’drun stormed out of the Council Chamber back to his weyr with a face like thunder. We’ve been getting some very odd looks from the Benden lot.’

‘They probably think this is normal for us,’ M’rell added.

‘Well, you’d best make sure they know it’s not. Talk to H’rek’s clutchmates when you get a chance, reassure them we’re not all like F’drun. We don’t want an incident like this to get blown up out of proportion.’

‘You know you’re starting to sound like R’feem already,’ M’rell said. ‘Hope you aren’t going to get all serious and responsible on us.’

‘I’ll try not to.’

They stayed for a little while longer, before having to leave for the afternoon drills. The infirmary felt very quiet once they’d left. Chenna went off back to her duties. D’gar picked up the satchel from the floor, to have a look at what he’d been left to do. Although it wasn’t that heavy, the action of lifting it sent a brief twinge through his shoulder.

‘You’ve not been a Wingsecond before?’ Gr’lon asked.

‘Not officially, no. One of ours died and the other ended up grounded not long before the end of the Pass. M’rell and I filled in, as best we could.’ If they’d not come forward, would he have ended up as Wingsecond? Probably not for a good few years. Promotion came through seniority once people stopped dying on a regular basis.

‘It’s not always an easy job,’ he said. ‘You’ll find you have to keep a bit more distance from your wingmates, so they respect you. You can’t just be one of the lads any more.’

D’gar supposed that was one of the reasons why it was thought better to have an older man in the position. ‘So, what do you think makes someone a good leader?' It would be useful to get a modern perspective on the matter.

Gr’lon considered for a moment. ‘Well, I don’t think you’d go far wrong by emulating my own Wingleader. He believes in upholding tradition - knows all his Teaching Ballads by heart. We always drill hard and do well at the Games.’

D’gar had never heard R’feem recite any Teaching Ballads, so he had no idea how well (or not) he knew them. ‘Our Wingleader cares about us. He was in here earlier today as soon as he found out what had happened to me.’ He thought over all the times R’feem had kept them going, even after some of the heaviest losses. ‘The day my weyrmate died, he came to see me. Well, not just me. Our Wing lost six pairs that Fall. There were a lot of folk grieving that night.’ He remembered sitting in his darkening weyr, clothes still covered with dried blood and feeling numb with misery. ‘He got me through the worst of it and looked out for me the next few Falls. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably not be here now. That’s the example I’d like to follow.’

Gr’lon was quiet for a while. ‘Well,’ he said eventually. ‘I suppose it’s a bit different during a Pass. Six pairs lost, you said, in one Fall? Is that normal?’

‘That was a bad one. But you’d expect to have one or two fatalities every Fall. Plus all the injuries, of course. That’s why queens have such large clutches during a Pass. And for several Turns before, too.’

He sighed. ‘One of the reasons we’re so short here is that Nemorth - that’s the previous queen -didn’t rise very often. People saw that as further proof Thread wouldn’t return again.’

‘You had just the one queen?’ He’d wondered why there were only two now, but hadn’t liked to ask in case something dreadful had happened that no one wanted to talk about.

‘Oh, yes. It’s been that way for Turns. I’d heard that all your Weyrs have several queens each, but I wasn’t sure if it was true.’

‘It’s true, all right.’ The idea of only having one queen was worrying. What if something happened to her? Or the Weyrwoman, for that matter. As H’rek had pointed out, Thread wasn’t the only way people could die. ‘Sometimes the juniors get transferred. It gives the weyrwoman more experience of managing different Weyrs.’ It also helped prevent inbreeding, but he didn’t want to mention that.

‘I suppose so. We’ve been the only Weyr for so long…’ he trailed off. ‘Well, I suppose we’ll have to get used to your ways. It must seem strange for you, as well.’

D’gar shrugged, then wished he hadn’t. Evidently, the numbweed’s effect was wearing off. ‘I’m getting used to it now, although there’s still a lot to learn.’ He didn’t feel totally at home, here in Benden, but the prospect of returning to Fort wasn’t as appealing as it had been either. He supposed that when they eventually had to go back, H’rek could apply for a transfer. Although, would he feel as dislocated there as D’gar did here? At least he had the company of all his wingmates. Being alone in a strange Weyr wouldn’t be easy. ‘Every Weyr is run a bit differently,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes it’s down to tradition, sometimes the way a particular Weyrleader likes things done.’ T’ron had been Weyrleader at Fort since he was a child, but he’d heard some of the older riders complain that there had been changes for the worse under his leadership. Never having known any different, he was in no position to comment.

‘Things have changed a lot here recently, too,’ Gr’lon’s expression seemed to indicate he wasn’t too happy about that.

‘They would, now that the Pass has begun.’ Gr’lon’s whole life had been lived at the end of a very long Interval, where there had been no excitement to look forward to but the Spring Games. D’gar wondered if he would have become bored with the same old routine, had they not come forward. At least he had been young enough to adapt. Some of the older riders wouldn’t have coped so well.

‘It’s not just that. F’lar’s views on how a Weyrleader should behave are very different from R’gul’s.’

From what he’d heard so far, F’lar was much better at the job, although he didn’t say that. Gr’lon would have the same sort of loyalty toward his Wingleader as D’gar felt for R’feem. ‘I think that’s a common enough feeling after a leadership change. I’m guessing R’gul had been Weyrleader for a while?’

‘Thirteen Turns. We had stability back then.’ He sighed. ‘Ah well, all that’s gone. It’s a different time, now Thread’s falling. And now all the Weyrs are full again.’

A healer came toward them. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked D’gar.

‘Er, fine.’ It was probably best not to mention the nagging discomfort in his back and shoulders. ‘Do I really need to stay here? I’d be as well to rest in my weyr.’

‘If you want to do that, I can’t stop you. But you’ve probably not thought about how you’re going to get there. Climbing on and off your dragon won’t help these wounds to close up any quicker.’ The healer examined his back. ‘You must be starting to feel it by now.’

‘It’s fine,’ he insisted. The healer pressed his shoulder blade and the pain took him by surprise. ‘Ow.’

‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Apart from the cuts, you’re also badly bruised. And by tomorrow morning you’ll find it quite difficult to move. So your best bet - boring though it might be - is to stay here and keep still. I can get some more numbweed if you want. Would you like that?’

‘Please.’ If he wasn’t going to get out, there was no point in suffering needlessly.

‘Anyway, I’m sure your weyrmate will be back to see you later on.’

‘He’s…’ he had been going to say ‘not my weyrmate’ and in strictly technical terms, that was true. They didn’t share the same weyr. But H’rek had demonstrated how much he cared by his actions today and really, D’gar wouldn’t mind if he did move in. ‘Yes, I expect he will.’


	11. The Queens' Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours circulate Benden Weyr after the lake incident. H'rek worries about D'gar. D'gar worries about H'rek.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as time always does when there is nothing to distract your attention. D'gar tried looking at the records, but it wasn’t made any easier by having to spread the hides out across the bed and he found that leaning forward for too long made him feel oddly queasy. Ah well. They would just have to wait until he was allowed back to his weyr.

H’rek called in later for a brief visit, bringing his clothes. After that, he felt well enough to get out of bed and walk carefully outside to check on Herebeth. Spending some time with his dragon seemed to settle them both down. It was also good to be outdoors again rather than breathing the over-stuffy air of the infirmary. Plus, it got him away while they were tending to the rider with the scored arm. He’d got a brief glimpse of the injury and it had made him feel sick. He didn’t go back inside until he was sure they’d finished.

When the healers made their evening round, not too long after dinner, he was offered a small cup of wine. He sniffed it cautiously. Behind the scent of grapes and alcohol, something bitter lurked; the unmistakable aroma of fellis juice. ’Do I really need to drink this?’

The healer gave him the sort of look that meant he had no choice in the matter. ‘You’ll rest more easily.’

He suspected they preferred it when the patients slept soundly and left them alone to get some rest as well, so he dutifully drank it. ‘Happy now?’

‘See you in the morning.’

Next thing he remembered was waking long after dawn, slightly fuzzy headed from the after effects. As predicted, he could feel all of the dragon-inflicted injuries; not just Herebeth’s talon scrapes, but the bruising from where Ryth had knocked him down. He sat up, trying not to groan.

Thankfully someone noticed his attempts and came over. ‘More numbweed?’

‘Please. How does it look now?’ He leaned forward for the healer to examine him.

‘Like you’ve been picked up and dropped by a dragon. Now hold still.’

‘That stuff’s cold.’

‘Don’t worry. You won’t feel it soon.’

He was right. By the time H’rek arrived with breakfast all the pain had gone.

‘I got you some eggs, cold meat, fresh bread, cheese and a couple of sweet rolls. I wasn’t sure what you usually eat for breakfast when it isn’t Threadfall.’

‘I’m not fussy. But thanks.’ He put some of the meat between two slices of bread and took a bite. ‘Delicious. So, what’s been happening?’

H’rek picked up a sweet roll. ’Well, last night there was all sorts of talk in the dining hall. They were saying dragon fights happen all the time at the other Weyrs. Along with duels to the death and staking Holders out for Thread if they don’t pay their tithes in time.’

‘I hope no one believed all that rubbish.’

‘Most didn’t, I think. But you know how people like to gossip. Anyway, Kylara looked really interested in all of it. She even got chatting to F’drun.’

‘I’m surprised he showed his face at all.’

‘Well, I suppose he had to eat. But no one else was talking to him. So she did. Probably just so people would speculate. She likes to be noticed.’

D’gar ate some more as he pondered this turn of events. ‘Wonder what he’s up to? I can’t believe he’s going to take this lying down.’

‘What can he do?’

‘I don’t know. But it worries me.’

H’rek was silent for a few moments. He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, then said nothing.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m worried too.’ He paused before adding, ‘About you.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Can you? I heard some other stories last night. M’rell said it wasn’t exactly out of character for you to act recklessly. He told me some of the things you’d done.’

‘Oh.’ That wasn’t good. He tried to make light of it. ‘M’rell exaggerates.’

‘Oh yes? And J’rud? G’reden?’

Why were his wingmates such deadglows? He’d hoped that H’rek would never get to hear how he’d been after S’brin died. ‘They had no right to…’

‘I think they were trying to impress me, not tell tales on you.’

It made very little difference. ‘They’d not have said it if I’d been there, though, would they?’

H’rek sat on the edge of the bed, looking concerned. ‘You’ve told me enough times how you’re scared of anything happening to me. How do you think I’d feel about losing you?’

‘I know. I’m sorry. What I did yesterday was nothing to do with… any of that. I was probably a bit stupid, I’ll admit, but it wasn’t recklessness. I knew that F’drun would pick on me whatever happened and it was better me in that lake than some of the others. I thought I’d just end up splashing around for a bit, not getting half-drowned.’

‘It’s freezing in there.’

‘I knew that before I got in. But I’m used to swimming in cold water. I don’t much like it, but I know how to do it safely. And I’d warned Herebeth as well, just in case.’ H’rek still looked unconvinced so D’gar grabbed his hand. ‘Please, H’rek, try to believe me. I wouldn’t do anything risky. Not anymore.’ Because I love you, he wanted to say. Why was it so difficult? He looked H’rek in the eyes, wishing he could speak directly mind to mind, as he would to Herebeth, rather than having to be clumsy with words. Instead, there was an uneasy silence.

‘You should try and eat some more,’ H’rek said at last. ‘Are they going to let you out of here later?’

‘I hope so. I feel all right, apart from a bit of bruising and numbweed takes care of that.’ Thankfully, they were back onto easy subjects now. ‘I might need a bit of help getting up to my weyr, though. Could you?’

‘Of course I will.’ He gave a quick smile. ‘I’d better go now. We’ve got some extra training this morning. But I’ll be back later. Get Herebeth to tell Rioth when you need a hand.’

They weren’t altogether happy about letting him go - D’gar supposed that as the infirmary wasn’t very busy at present, having patients gave them something to do - but by lunchtime he was dismissed with a pot of numbweed and strict instructions to get plenty of rest and not to lift anything heavy for a few days.

Getting to his weyr wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated. Herebeth crouched right down and H’rek gave him a boost to get on board. _Try to take off gently,_ he asked his dragon. Herebeth obliged as well as he could. Although he was braced for it, the initial spring into the air jarred sore muscles. Flying across the Bowl was fine and he slid off easily enough on the ledge. It was only as he walked inside the weyr that he realised his legs were unsteady. He dumped R’feem’s stuff next to the bed and sat on it abruptly before he fell down.

H’rek had followed him inside. ’Are you all right? Any pain?’ he asked worriedly.

‘No, I just feel a bit odd. I’ll be fine once I’ve rested for a while.’ He took a couple of deep breaths. ‘It’s probably the after effects of all that fellis they gave me.’

He still looked concerned. ‘Are you sure they said you were all right to come back here?’

‘Of course. How did your training go?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘Oh. It was fine. We…’ He seemed about to add something else, then glanced at the rolled-up hides poking out of the bag. ‘So, what’s all this?’

‘Well, as I’m grounded for a few days R’feem left me all his admin to do.’

He looked around. ’But where are you going to work? Your weyr’s a bit… empty. You need a table and chair at least.’

‘Suppose I do.’

H’rek patted his shoulder gently. ‘I’ll go and find some bits and pieces from the stores. You have a rest.’

D’gar lay down and shut his eyes, thankful that H’rek seemed to have dropped his earlier line of questioning. He must have fallen asleep for a while and was awakened by the sound of voices and something heavy being moved around.

‘There you go,’ H’rek said. He’d brought J’rud with him. Between them they were carrying a large and heavy-looking desk. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘How did you get that up here?’ He sat up carefully.

J’rud smiled. ‘Zurinth’s good at carrying furniture. We used some rugs and things to wrap it so none of the sharp edges could hurt her.’

H’rek held up a vividly coloured tapestry against the wall. ‘Here’s one of them. How does it look up here?’

J’rud stepped back and considered for a moment. ‘Try it on the other wall. There’s more natural light there and it’ll show the colours better.’

‘I’m not sure as I want to see those colours.’ D’gar stood up. His legs felt fine now, although his eyes were under assault from the tapestry.

J’rud and H’rek just gave each other a look, then pointedly ignored him as they carried on re-designing the interior of his weyr.

By the time they’d finished, he had to admit it looked far more homely. Several rugs now covered the floor and the bleakness of the walls were softened by tapestries and wall hangings. The desk had been placed underneath one of the glow baskets and they’d brought a comfortably padded chair to match. D’gar sat in it and started to unpack his work.

‘So, will you be moving your stuff over here as well?’ J’rud asked H’rek.

‘Um, well…’ H’rek didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He glanced at D’gar.

‘No, I suppose you might as well wait until he moves,’ J’rud continued.

‘Moves?’ H’rek asked. ‘Why?’

‘Well, he’s a Wingsecond now, so he’ll be entitled to a lower level weyr.’ He perched on the edge of the desk next to D’gar. ‘Had a look at any yet?’

‘Seeing as I only got the job yesterday and I’ve been in the infirmary until now, I’ve not exactly had a chance.’

J’rud laughed. ‘Hey, you can chuck F’drun out of his. That’d be worth seeing.’

‘Probably best not to antagonise him any more than necessary. He’s still going to be in our Wing, after all.’

‘More’s the pity. Anyway, I’d best be off now. We’re flying out to Greystones. Threadfall’s over the Hold there tomorrow.’

‘Thanks for your help.’ D’gar waited until he’d left and they’d heard the scrape of talons on the ledge as Zurinth launched herself. ‘Do you want to?’ he asked H’rek.

‘What?’

‘Move in?’

H’rek scuffed his boot on the floor. ’Would you like that?’ he asked, a little hesitantly.

‘You’ve already redecorated the place for me.’ He tried to keep the tone light. ‘So you might as well.’

‘That would make us weyrmates.’

‘Well, yes.’ Maybe it was too quick. Maybe he’d say no. D’gar felt suddenly uncertain. Nervous even, as he waited for H’rek’s answer. ‘I’ll try not to be too reckless in future.’

‘All right, then.’ H’rek put his arms around D’gar. ‘It was lonely last night without you.’

‘If I’d not been knocked out with fellis, I’d probably have felt the same.’

H’rek had his usual pre-Threadfall firestone duties later, so D’gar settled down to read through the records he’d been left. He started with the ones from Fort. Trying to decipher R’feem’s untidy writing was a job in itself. Each dragon and rider had a separate entry, providing information on transfers, injuries, disciplinary problems and routine assessments. As anyone would, he found and read his own records first. R’feem had made a few notes regarding his unofficial Wingsecond duties during the previous Pass. ‘Reliable, sensible and a useful member of the Wing’, he’d written. That was before S’brin’s death, of course. Thankfully he’d not made any comments about what happened after. It was possible that he kept more confidential notes for his own reference, not to be shared with Wingseconds. That was all to the good; F’drun - who would probably have had access to these same records - would not have been able to discover anything embarrassing about him.

He checked the other hides quickly, finding entries for each Threadfall, detailing weather conditions, locations, duration and the number of casualties and fatalities. Once again, he found himself drawn to a specific date: 9.25.50. Two Falls before the last. He forced himself to read the list of deceased riders and dragons. Six pairs, including S’brin and Zemianth. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it might. The grief was still there, of course, but it no longer felt like a raw wound, even though it was less than a Turn since S’brin had died. Had they stayed put rather than coming forward, he knew he’d have been torturing himself with memories of where they had been and what doing on every day up until that fateful date. But he was here, now and his life had moved on. It felt almost - disrespectful - to have fallen in love again so soon, even though he’d not gone out looking for someone else. He and S’brin had never talked about the possibility one of them might not make it through. It had always felt like bad luck, or tempting fate. Yet S’brin wouldn’t have wanted D’gar to be miserable and lonely for the rest of his life, would he? Enough musing, he told himself. Get on with some work.

R’feem hadn’t made any entries since they’d come forward and transferred to Benden, so there was quite a lot of updating needed. As he read, he made notes on a slate; unwilling, as yet, to write on the hides. There were some questions he needed to ask R’feem, so he noted those down, too.

He moved on to the records from the other Weyrs. Igen’s were similar to Fort’s in layout and detail. Whoever had compiled them had much neater handwriting than R’feem’s scrawl, so it was easier to pick out the names of riders and dragons who were now part of the combined Wing. It would be best to start afresh on a new hide, he thought, keeping the Benden records separate from what came before. He could always cross reference to the old records for historical information. Yes, that would be the best way to go about it.

F’drun’s entries for the Wing he’d led at High Reaches were very different than either of the others he’d seen. That could be put down to organisational differences, of course. Each Weyr had its own way of doing things, after all. However, he noticed that there seemed to be a lot of requests to transfer out and more than the usual number of disciplinary issues reported than seemed normal. F’drun, unsurprisingly, had written quite a few disparaging personal comments about his riders, rather than sticking to plain facts and figures. No confidential notes for him. With such an unpleasant nature, how had he even got to be a Wingleader in the first place, D’gar wondered? Probably he had been in the right place at the right time, when there was a shortage of bronze or brown riders who had sufficient experience. It happened during a Pass. No wonder the Weyrleader had taken the opportunity to be rid of him.

The afternoon passed quickly. H’rek returned bringing klah. ‘Thought you’d appreciate a hot drink,’ he said.

‘Thanks. I do.’ Although there was a skin of drinking water in the weyr, nothing refreshed like a good mug of klah. He rolled up the hides and sat back in the chair, albeit carefully as the bruises were making themselves felt.

‘While we were bagging firestone, I’ve been thinking.’ H’rek perched on the edge of the desk. ‘About you and F’drun among other things. Why do you reckon he chose you specifically as opposed to anyone else in the Wing?’

‘V’vil and T’burrad said there was no reason behind it when he was at High Reaches.’

‘They didn’t see a reason. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.’ He frowned.

D’gar recognised the expression by now. It was how H’rek looked when he was mulling over something. He wondered if he had a similar expression, then realised he must have, as his wingmates always seemed to be able to tell when he was thinking hard, as opposed to, say, talking with Herebeth. ‘True,’ he commented.

‘What we need to do is find out about people he’s picked on before to see if they have anything in common with you. Age, looks, the colour of their dragons, potential threat to his position? You might find something among those records.’

‘You’re really taking this seriously, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes. Haven’t you got it into your thick skull you could have died yesterday.’

D’gar shook his head. ‘F’drun wasn’t trying to kill me…’

‘Did I say that? All because someone’s not trying doesn’t mean it can’t happen. There’s a reason riders aren't allowed to fight outside of tightly controlled wrestling bouts, isn’t there?’

‘Well, yes. I know that.’

‘If Herebeth had got to you later. If you hadn’t been such a good swimmer. If the water had been even colder…’ H’rek counted out his points on his fingers.

‘He’d have had Ryth pull me out. The others said that’s what he used to do. I’d probably be a bit more chewed up, but I imagine he’d have liked that.’ Dragons wouldn’t hurt people of their own volition, but they’d go along with what their rider believed to be right. Herebeth had flamed those fisherfolk’s nets because he hadn’t seen anything wrong with it. Yet talking to Gr’lon had made him realise that Benden riders wouldn’t consider that a proper thing to do at all. Therefore, their dragons wouldn’t do it either.

H’rek sighed. ‘It was still stupid. Risky. Anything could have gone wrong.’

‘I’ll give you that. But I didn’t drown and he can’t do anything like that again now he’s been demoted.’

‘Don’t you think that will just give him even more of a reason to hate you?’

It was a fair point. ‘He might hate me, but at least he can’t order me to do anything dangerous.’

‘There are other ways he can get to you. Indirect ways. We still need to figure him out.’

Deep down, he knew H’rek was right. There was something about F’drun that bothered him. Even if he was just one of those people who acted without considering the consequences, that could still cause problems. ‘Does everyone have to have a reason for all the things they do?’ he mused.

‘Of course they do. Take me, for example. My father didn’t like me as well as my brothers and sisters. No matter how hard I worked he never gave me a word of approval.’

It was the first time H’rek had really talked about his life before Impressing Rioth. ‘That’s sad. So, did you figure out why?’

‘Eventually. As I got older it got worse. Of course, I thought he might suspect I was… the way I am. Not being attracted to girls.’

Not for the first time, D’gar gave thanks for having been Weyrbred, where sexual preferences weren’t an issue. ‘Good job you got Searched, then.’

‘Yes. Otherwise I’d have been expected to get married, like my brother.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But that still didn’t explain why he’d always treated me differently. I’d often wondered if maybe he thought I wasn’t really his son…’

‘That your mother might have slept with someone else, you mean?’ Weyrfolk had a different moral compass than the Holdbred, but people were people and it was still a possibility.

H’rek nodded. ’Except we lived in an isolated farm hold, so there wouldn’t have been much opportunity. Besides, I looked like all the others - blond hair, skinny build. I even had the same colour eyes as my father. Then, one time I got back early from the fields and overheard my parents arguing. That wasn’t uncommon, of course. They didn’t get on.’

D’gar made an encouraging noise for him to continue.

‘It was about his older brother. The one he’d never talk about. Turned out that before I was born, father had been away for a while and his brother had looked after the farm. He and mother had, well… you know. And when I was born, he must have worked out the timing was impossible. So, there was a reason, after all. Just not one that was immediately obvious to me.’

‘So that brings us back to F’drun how? I can’t be any sort of relative. And it’s different in the Weyr anyway. Things like that don’t matter.’

‘Well, maybe you - and all the others he’s picked on in the past - remind him of someone who bullied him as a child or a rival who stole away his first love. Could be anything. So, he takes a dislike to you at first sight without even getting to know you.’

‘Interesting theory.’

‘Like I said, you need to find out a bit more about who he’s picked on in the past. See if there’s a pattern to it.’

Talking of F’drun reminded him that they would probably meet later on. They’d not spoken since the lake incident and it would bound to be difficult. He wondered how best to deal with it. As it happened, the problem never arose. He didn’t appear during dinner and it turned out no one had seen much of him during the day either.

‘I reckon he’s been in that Kylara’s weyr,’ V’chal said, always eager to gossip. ‘They were very thick with each other last night.’

‘So I heard.’

‘You heard some of the other things they’ve been saying about us too?’

‘Weyrfolk love to speculate. It’ll pass once something new and juicier comes by.’

When they’d finished eating R’feem presented him with his Wingsecond’s knots, much to the general approval of everyone in the Wing. Shortly after that, he noticed M’rell going up for a refill of klah. It provided the perfect opportunity to speak with him away from the others. D’gar joined the queue just behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Could I have a quick word?’

‘Sure. What’s it about?’

They got their refills, then D’gar took him aside to a quiet corner. ‘Look, I know you meant well, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go telling H’rek any more stories about me.’

‘What do you mean?’ M’rell seemed totally oblivious to what he might have done.

‘He’s a worrier. He doesn’t need to know about my past.’

‘Oh, that. It wasn’t just me, you know.’

D’gar suspected it had been M’rell who started it off, though. ‘No, I gathered that. But where you lead, others will follow. So please, don’t say any more.’

M’rell flicked the new shoulder knots. ‘Getting a bit officious now, are we?’ There was humour in his tone, but with an undercurrent of something else.

‘No. Just that I’d rather tell him myself. All right?’

M’rell nodded. ‘If that’s how you want it I’ll leave him sitting on his own his looking miserable in future.’

Sometimes M’rell could be infuriating. ‘I didn’t mean that. Just… think a bit first.’

‘Like you did when you got in the lake, you mean…’ Anything further he might have been going to say was interrupted by someone banging on a pan. One of the Benden Wingleaders - D’gar thought it might be T’bor, but he wasn’t that familiar with them all yet - stood up at the top table.

‘Right, here’s the moment you youngsters have been waiting for all day. The draw for six places in the Queens Wing for tomorrow’s Fall.’

‘What’s all this about?’ he asked M’rell.

‘No idea. Some Benden thing, I suppose.’

D’gar glanced across the room to the table usually occupied by H’rek’s clutchmates. There was a fizz of excitement among the riders sitting there.

‘Now, just so everyone knows it’s fair, we’re going to draw the names right now. Kylara?’

A striking blond woman came forward. She wore a figure-hugging dress in shades of blue which rippled and shimmered like water with every sway of her hips.

‘Whoa,’ M’rell said, with a hint of awe in his voice. ‘She looks amazing.’

She certainly had a presence about her and it was also quite clear she knew it. But D’gar’s eyes were drawn to a figure behind her, leaning against a wall in the shadows between the glow baskets. F’drun. So maybe the gossip had some foundation. F’drun’s presence also made him feel distinctly uneasy.

Kylara reached a hand into the pan and brought out a small piece of slate. ‘M’shol and Kurmianth,’ she read.

Over on the youngsters table, cheers erupted. D’gar caught sight of H’rek. He must have known about this draw. Why hadn’t he mentioned it earlier? He left M’rell staring open mouthed at Kylara and made his way over.

Kylara announced a second pair just as he got there. ‘Is everyone’s name in there?’ he asked H’rek, leaning over. There were more cheers and the lucky winner was clapped on the back.

‘Only the ones J’cul thought were up to it,’ H’rek said quietly.

‘Is yours?’

‘Yes.’ He sounded just a little defensive.

‘B’dor and Farimith,’ Kylara announced.

The lad next to H’rek jumped to his feet and punched the air. ‘Yes!’

D’gar moved back slightly to give room for his clutchmates to congratulate him. He wanted H’rek to progress, of course, but he also dreaded the prospect. Yet it was inevitable that he and Rioth would join a Wing at some point and surely this would be a fairly safe way to begin. Injuries were rare in the Queens Wing and recuperating dragons and riders often did a turn there before rejoining their Wings. He missed the next couple of names, but couldn’t miss the sight of H’rek’s white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the table, waiting to find out if he’d get his chance.

‘And finally, the last pair.’ Kylara paused for dramatic effect then pulled out the final piece. She barely looked at it before speaking. ‘It’s H’rek and Rioth.’

H’rek sprang up, found D’gar and hugged him. ‘I got it! I got it!’

‘Well done,’ D’gar said, wishing he could feel the same degree of enthusiasm, yet not wanting to spoil the moment. Over his shoulder, he saw F’drun and Kylara together, smiling in conspiratorial fashion and the sense of unease he’d had earlier suddenly deepened.


	12. Support Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H'rek fights his first Threadfall over Greystones Hold.

Afternoon Fall was always worse; all that waiting around beforehand. D’gar preferred when it started in the morning, but unfortunately Thread wasn’t so obliging. Today he was more nervous than usual. He was still grounded, but H’rek would be fighting with the Queens Wing.

He’d not slept very well the previous night, partly because it was difficult to get comfortable from his injuries and partly through worry. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Kylara drawing the names (and barely pausing to read H’rek’s, as if she knew beforehand), F’drun lurking in the shadows. F’drun, who had reason enough to hate him (never mind that it was his fault to begin with) and who might want to get to him by hurting H’rek.

The morning dragged. There was a brief Wing meeting which D’gar attended even though he wouldn’t be flying. F’drun was conspicuous by his absence; he was also grounded due to Ryth’s injuries.

‘You’ll all be pleased to hear it's a short Fall today,’ R’feem said, once he’d joined them from the usual Wingleaders briefing. ‘Most of it will be out at sea with only around two hours over land in the vicinity of Greystones Hold. We’ll be overflying the fishing fleet for part of it though, protecting them so they can cast their nets as soon as trailing edge passes over.’

Shoals of fish always gathered to feed on drowned Thread and the fishermen should have a good haul. After the others had dispersed, R’feem took D’gar aside. ‘Try and have a chat with F’drun later.’

‘If he’ll even speak to me after what’s happened.’

‘He needs to get over it. And so do you. Shake hands, do whatever’s necessary. Probably not a good idea to settle your differences in a wrestling match though. I need you in one piece for the next Fall.’

D’gar smiled wryly. ‘Thanks for your confidence.’

‘And don’t forget to see the Headwoman about getting a lower level weyr. Maybe with room for two dragons, eh?’

‘We’d already decided that.’

R’feem nodded. ‘Good.’ He patted D’gar’s shoulder. ‘Glad to see you’re a bit more like your old self again.’

He met H’rek over lunch. The prospect of Fall hadn’t affected his appetite in the slightest and he piled his plate. D’gar toyed with a meat roll, pushing it around the plate and forcing himself to eat more for appearances than because he was hungry. He didn’t want H’rek to know how he was feeling.

‘Why aren’t you eating much? You’re not even riding Fall today.’ H’rek said.

‘Just not very hungry, that’s all. Probably all that fellis I’ve had recently.’

‘Oh, yes.’ H’rek wiped the remains of the stew from his bowl and chewed a hunk of bread.

‘But… take care, won’t you?’ It was a stupid thing to say, really. How could anyone be careful when they were doing something as potentially dangerous as fighting Thread. ‘I know not much Thread gets through to the lower levels, but watch out for the flamethrowers. They’re less precise than a flaming dragon.’ And Prideth’s rider might just accidentally keep her finger on the trigger for a fraction longer than necessary. He didn’t like to be thinking that about a gold rider, but F’drun certainly had no scruples. Any mishaps could be put down to a lack of experience; neither Lessa nor Kylara had been using flamethrowers for very long, after all.

‘Rioth will look after me. She’s so excited about flaming real Thread after all the practising we’ve done.’

D’gar thought back to his own first Falls as part of a fighting Wing. He’d been just as enthusiastic, back then. ‘Just mind you keep your eyes peeled, that’s all. Keep a good distance between you and the next dragon.’ It was as much as he could say without giving away his suspicions, which he hoped were unfounded.

Later, Herebeth dropped him off outside the infirmary. As walking wounded, he’d been co-opted to support duty. For him, that would mean helping out wherever necessary and for Herebeth, assisting injured dragons to land safely. At least if he was kept busy, it would take his mind off what might be happening over Greystones Hold.

They were already making preparations for treating the inevitable casualties. Trestle tables were set out in a row. Buckets of numbweed and redwort solution were being carried out by some of the Lower Caverns workers. D’gar spotted Bavi, H’rek’s friend from the laundry. ‘Anything I can do?’ he asked.

‘You can help me sort these.’ She carried several boxes containing linen and bandages. ‘If you’re all right for that.’

‘Oh, yes. Just not supposed to lift anything too heavy to give the cuts a chance to heal up. I’m not allowed to fly _between_ until they do.’

‘I hope H’rek’s been looking after you.’ Her eyes twinkled.

‘In every way.’ Unconsciously, he glanced toward the assembly point for the Queens Wing. ‘I expect he’s told you he’s fighting today.’

His concern must have been obvious, for Bavi dropped her boxes on the table, came over and hugged him. ‘Don’t you worry. He’s been dying to get into a Wing since before we came back. He’ll be fine.’

D’gar wished she hadn’t put it quite like that. He wished he could be so certain; that he didn’t have the sort of mind that noticed so much and let imagination worry at it like a feline with its prey.

They’d begun unpacking the boxes when a bronze dragon landed nearby. Even if he’d not recognised the rider straight away, D’gar would have known it was Ryth from the way Herebeth reacted. He reared up on his hind legs, mantling his wings and lashing his tail, hissing loudly.

_Hush now. He won’t do us any harm._

_I don’t like him. I will keep him away from you._

_It’s fine. I can look after myself now._

Reluctantly, the dragon settled, although his eyes still rolled red. It was clear that Ryth was equally as upset. D’gar noticed the nasty looking bite on his neck and a couple of gouges on his shoulder from the fight. As F’drun strode over, both dragons continued to watch each other intently, as if they might be contemplating a return match.

‘If your dragon attacks Ryth again I’ll not be held responsible for the consequences.’ It was clear F’drun was as unsettled as his dragon.

‘He won’t. I can control him well enough when I’m not being drowned.’ Even as he said it, he saw F’drun’s eyes narrow. It might be best to stick to business. ‘Is Ryth going to be fit enough for support duty?’

‘No thanks to you.’

Two Wings took off in formation. Both dragons watched them ascend. It was counter to their instincts not to be fighting Thread. It was a good job the Fall area was a sufficient distance from the Weyr that it wouldn’t upset them too much.

F’drun unloaded a couple of flamethrowers and a bag of tools from Ryth’s back. He found himself a clear patch of ground a good distance from D’gar and set to dismantling them. Regular cleaning and servicing were vital to keep them working efficiently and safely. The stress of use on dragon back - particularly going in and out of freezing _between_ \- meant that they needed more attention than those used by ground crews.

‘I expect those are her spares,’ Bavi said, sidling up to D’gar. ‘Saw him coming out of her weyr this morning.’

‘Who?’

‘Kylara.'

As he’d suspected. He wondered what they were up to, apart from the obvious.

“it’s a shame,’ she went on. ‘Prideth’s due to rise again, that’s why she’s doing it. To make T’bor jealous. Poor man. He dotes on her, you know.’

Ah, one of those sorts of relationships. Some women - and some men - liked to play people off against each other.

‘Mind you, Orth will probably fly her again. Good job Prideth’s got more sense than her rider. Hope he doesn’t think he's in with a chance.’

Now that would put the dragon among the wherries. Letting Herebeth chase a green in a Weyr not his own was fine, but if Ryth flew a Benden queen it would really stir things up. D’gar decided to wind Bavi up a bit. ‘Ryth’s a good bronze. Experienced, too.’

She frowned. ‘Bit small though.’

It had to be said. ‘Size isn’t everything, you know.’

That got a smile from her. They both glanced up as two more Benden Wings flew over, followed by R’feem’s Wing. At Benden, the Wings were traditionally named after each one’s leader. D’gar thought that might alter a few Turns into the Pass, when there had been several changes of leadership due to injuries or death. He noticed that M’rell and Toth had taken the other Wingsecond’s position in the formation due to his absence. Herebeth raised his head as they went overhead, then winked _between_.

_We should be with them._

_I know. I’m sorry we’re not. Next time, though._

Another rider walked over and introduced himself. ’T’sum. Wingsecond in F’lar’s Wing. My Munth’s out of action, but I’m fine. Hear you’re helping with support duty today. What have we got?’

‘My brown, Herebeth and the bronze over there. He’s got an injury to his neck, but his rider says it’s not affecting him too badly. That’s him, working on the flamethrowers.’

‘Done this before?’

‘A couple of times, back in the last Pass. Mind you, we had enough queens then that it wasn’t usually necessary.’ The queen dragons, being larger and stronger, could support an injured dragon to the ground alone without needing any aid. He’d not meant the comment in a derogatory way, but T’sum obviously took it as a slight.

‘Well, let’s hope your two will be strong enough to cope if one of ours needs help. Never known full-grown dragons to be so small before.’

D’gar felt a need to counter. ‘They shrunk during four hundred Turns _between_ , didn’t you hear?’

T’sum had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Ah well. Dragons can lift what they think they can lift.’

‘Exactly. And my Herebeth has already shown he’s no difficulty in holding a modern green on his own.’

T’sum’s eyes flicked toward the dragon, then back to D’gar. ‘Ah, that brown dragon.’

As he spoke, the Queens Wing went by, the two massive gold dragons flanked by the youngsters from Prideth’s clutch plus a few other mature dragons. Herebeth bugled as he spotted Rioth. H’rek looked down and raised a hand in acknowledgement. D’gar waved back, all the worry he’d suppressed up until that moment flaring up again. He glanced over to F’drun, who was also looking up with an inscrutable expression.

_Rioth will look after him_ , Herebeth said. _She is a good flyer and eager to fight._

_I know. I’m not worried about Rioth, though._

_Prideth would not hurt one of her own hatchlings._

Prideth might not, but what about her rider, D’gar thought. He carried on watching as they cleared the rim of the Bowl and went _between_ as one. The Weyr seemed suddenly very empty.

‘Best send them up to the rim, then,’ T’sum said. ‘Hopefully, they’ll not be needed today.’

‘Hopefully.’

_Herebeth, can you go up to the rim now. And ask Ryth to do the same._

Ryth didn’t look very happy about being ordered around by a mere brown. F’drun glared too, but obviously confirmed the instruction to his dragon and the two of them took off. They stationed themselves well apart, though. D’gar hoped they would be able to work together if the need arose.

‘Think I’ll go and have a look at those flamethrowers. Nifty contraptions, aren’t they? I don’t really know much about how they work, so I suppose I’d better learn.’

It was something to do while they waited around. D’gar thought it was probably a good idea to join him. If he talked to F’drun in the company of the Benden Wingsecond, they would be less likely to snipe at each other.

F’drun had already drained down the tanks into a couple of buckets and was dismantling the trigger mechanism on one of the wands.

‘So, how does this thing work, then?’ T’sum asked, having introduced himself.

F’drun was actually quite good at explaining the function of the various parts, how they fitted together and the maintenance required. D’gar had stripped down and reassembled a few flamethrowers when he was a weyrling, so he joined in with the demonstration on the other one. It was, at least, something in which they could show a united front to the modern riders.

Time passed. A couple of casualties came back; none of the dragons needed assistance in landing. One had a nasty looking score on the tail, but as soon as the numbweed took effect, he settled down. Two of the riders had minor scores on the face and arm.

‘Should send them straight back up, ‘F’drun muttered. ‘Don’t even know why they came in for those.’

D’gar had to agree. ‘They’re new to it, though.’

‘How bad does it have to be?’ T’sum asked.

‘A lot worse than that. I was always told that if you can still throw firestone to your dragon and you aren’t bleeding too badly, you stay up there.’ D’gar told him. ‘And dragons will put up with minor scores better than their riders usually.’ He could see that T’sum looked slightly shocked at this.

F’drun, of course, went one better. ‘One of the Wingleaders at High Reaches rode most of a Fall with his foot gone. He only noticed when he got off his dragon and fell over.’

‘I can believe that. My feet get so cold up there I’m never sure if they’re still attached or not.’

F’drun actually smiled. ‘What’s the worst one you’ve seen?’ he asked.

‘Brown dragon. Hit by so much Thread that although he went _between_ and froze off what was on the outside, some of it had eaten its way into his gut. Died on the floor of the Bowl without going _between_ again. It was a mess.’ I can play this game, he thought, wondering if F’drun was testing his squeamishness. ‘How about you?’

‘A man with half his skull eaten away. You could see his brain.’

‘Did he live?’ T’sum asked, with a sort of horrified fascination.

‘For a few days.’ He looked back at D’gar. ’Maximum number of deaths in a single Fall?’

‘Six. That’s pairs, of course.’ Two Falls before the last; the bad one.

‘Nine,’ F’drun countered. ‘One was our former Weyrleader.’

‘That’s tragic,’ T’sum said.

F’drun grimaced. ‘He was past it. Should have retired but he wanted to go out fighting.’

‘We had a few like that at Fort, too.’ This was going well. Maybe it was possible to have a civil conversation with F’drun. Or perhaps he just felt the two of them should show solidarity against the Benden riders.

‘Then, of course you get the suicidal types. The ones who’ve lost the will to live. Who deliberately put themselves - and their dragon - at risk.’

Despite the warmth of the afternoon, D’gar suddenly felt cold. How could F’drun have found out that about him? Or was it simply a lucky guess?

‘Why would anyone do that?’ T’sum asked, in all innocence. ‘I’d never risk Munth, whatever happened.’

‘Ask him,’ F’drun gestured toward D’gar.

‘You knew someone like that?’

D’gar looked straight at F’drun. ‘I was someone like that, for a while. But I’m still here. And I’m over it now.’

F’drun ignored him and spoke directly to T’sum. ‘That’s why we don’t have his sort as Wingleaders or Wingseconds at High Reaches. They lose a weyrmate and they fall apart.’

‘Eh?’ T’sum obviously didn’t get his meaning.

‘Well, if your weyrmate’s a woman from the Lower Caverns she’s going to be safe enough during Threadfall. And queen riders don’t get hit very often. But greens… greens die all the time.’

D’gar had never wanted to hurt anyone as badly as he wanted to hurt F’drun right then. Even Herebeth felt it.

_Are you all right,_ he asked worriedly. _Is that man upsetting you? I can bite his dragon again if you like._

_No, don’t. It’s fine._ Somehow, he managed not show how he felt. He forced a laugh. ‘All the more reason to enjoy life while you can.’

F’drun carried on with putting the flamethrower together as if nothing untoward had been said. ‘Now, this safety cut-out is vital. If it malfunctions, you could accidentally flame off your own dragon’s head when you’re swapping the wand from one hand to the other.’

T’sum winced. ‘Has that ever happened?’

‘A long time ago…’ He started on the warning tale everyone knew. F’drun seemed at his best when recounting gruesome stories.

D’gar concentrated on reassembling the other wand. Maybe he could find something on F’drun. Dig deep enough and you can find dirt on anyone, he thought. If he couldn’t find it in the records, he’d have to ask around. He was slightly disgusted at himself for even thinking that way.

‘… and her neck was burned almost down to the bone. Dead before she could go _between_ , dead before she even hit the ground.’ To emphasise his point F’drun stood, holding the wand aloft. A gout of flame burst from the nozzle. He must have dialled it to maximum. The sudden roar and residual heat made D’gar flinch.

_Injured coming in_ , Herebeth warned. D’gar looked up to see a blue favouring a wing - although still flying, albeit unsteadily - and a green with no obvious scores, but whose rider was slumped over his dragon’s neck. For a second, his heart skipped a beat, then he realised the dragon was a far darker shade of green than Rioth.

_Get alongside that blue in case he needs support,_ he sent back, almost unnecessarily as Herebeth had already taken off. ‘F’drun. We need Ryth to assist.’

He glanced up and a few moments later Ryth flopped lazily from the rim into a glide. Herebeth had already manoeuvred into position, alongside the foundering blue’s right flank. Ryth took the opposite side and together they helped take the dragon’s weight, allowing him to make an untidy - but safe - landing.

D’gar started running towards the green, who had landed unaided. She was shrieking in distress and wouldn’t let the healers close enough to get to her rider.

_Talk to her, Herebeth. Calm her down. Tell her he’s going to be all right, but we need to get him off._

_I am trying. She is very upset, though._

The green seemed uninjured. The blood streaking down her left shoulder was bright red; the rider’s, not her own. Meanwhile, the blue dragon was being calmed by his rider and pails of numbweed were on the way, so that one could be safely left for the moment.

‘Can you get him down?’ one of the healers asked, anxiously.

‘I’m going to, once the dragon settles.’

T’sum had come over too. ‘Need a hand?’

F’drun was still fiddling with the flamethrowers and didn’t seem inclined to help. Best to let him be, then. ‘I’ll get up and undo the straps. If you could be ready to catch him.’

_Is she all right, Herebeth? I’m going to have to climb up._

_I have told her you are here to help. She cannot hear her rider. She is worried._

_Hold her steady for me._ If the man died while he was up there and his dragon went _between_ , he’d not stand a chance. Still, it had to be done.

He scrambled up the side of the dragon and got himself behind the rider, quickly unfastening his safety straps. He didn’t know if the man could hear him, but he talked anyway. ‘You’ll be fine. We just need to get you off here so the healers can take a look at you.’ The reek of blood was bringing back all kinds of unwanted memories. He forced himself to concentrate on the present and managed get the man's leg over his dragon’s neck, then supported him as T’sum and two others took his weight and got him to the ground. They carried him swiftly away into the infirmary.

_Tell her well done. Tell her they’re going to look after him._ As he slid down, the dragon turned her head to look at him, eyes whirling yellow with anxiety. He wished he could do more to reassure her. It was much easier when you had a queen dragon available; their authority always calmed dragons much more effectively than could a brown or even a bronze.

He started over towards the blue dragon to see how they were doing.

‘Are you all right?’

He turned to see Bavi, concern written on her face.

‘Me? Yes, why?’ It was only as she looked him up and down that he realised there was blood on his hands. On his clothes too. Just like that day. He froze in panic, his heart starting to race.

She seemed to understand, taking him by the arm and leading him over to the pump. ’Come on, now, let’s get you cleaned up.’ Her voice was calm, practical, like a mother whose child has fallen in some mud. She filled a bucket. ‘Wash off what you can. Then drop those clothes off at the laundry later and I’ll get them done for you.’

‘Thanks. Blood gets everywhere, doesn’t it? Didn’t even think about that. You don’t do you, when it’s an emergency.’ He was talking too fast, trying to stop his brain from processing all the dreadful connections. He couldn’t let this get to him. Not with F’drun only a short distance away probably just waiting for him to show some sign of weakness. The cold water helped, as did a couple of deep breaths.

‘Fall must be almost over by now,’ Bavi said. ‘Let’s hope that’s the last of the casualties.’

‘There’ll be a few drop in on the way back, just to get minor scores or burns numbed.’ He was beginning to feel calmer, or at least, more in control.

T’sum emerged from the infirmary doorway. ‘There you are. Think he’s going to make it. The healers have managed to stop the bleeding, anyway.’ He crouched down to wash his own hands, which were almost as bloody as D’gar’s had been.

‘Good.’

‘Those stories you two were telling earlier… is it really that bad?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘When Munth got scored I felt terrible. Blamed myself. Wondered if I could have done anything differently.’

‘Everyone feels like that. It’s natural. The good thing is that Munth will heal faster than you would and he’ll forget about it. It’s not so easy for us. Come on, let’s have a look at this blue.’

They watched as one of the dragon healers carefully stitched together the torn wingsail, using fabric to support the areas that had been eaten away by Thread. Now that he couldn’t feel any pain, the blue was calm; even interested in the procedure.

D’gar found the process fascinating; the slow reconstruction of the tattered skin and the careful, methodical work by the dragon healer.

‘Not so bad when it’s someone else’s dragon,’ T’sum commented. ‘When Munth was having his wing done I was wincing at every stitch, even though he was numbed.’

Suddenly there was a shadow overhead and a blast of icy air bringing with it the stench of firestone. Two of the Wings had returned. All of the Lower Cavern workers looked up, clapping and cheering.

‘Do they always do that?’ D’gar asked.

‘Well, they have every time so far.’

‘You can’t hear, from up there.’ He wasn’t sure if they did it at Fort, or if this was also something that only happened here at Benden, where Threadfall was still a new and unusual event to be marked. Still, it was a gesture he approved of, so he joined in. Each time a Wing emerged from _between_ , everyone on the ground showed their appreciation of the dragons and riders. When the golden queens came by, he cheered even louder, especially when he spotted Rioth and H’rek. Herebeth joined in, bugling and flapping his wings.

As he’d predicted, a few dragons landed nearby. He carried pails of numbweed across as the healers gave each man and dragon a check, then helped apply the salve where necessary. He’d just finished slathering it on to a brown dragon’s foreleg, when someone grabbed him and swung him round into a hug.

It was H’rek. He smelled of firestone and charred Thread. His hair was spiky with sweat. ‘It was amazing. Rioth flamed this big clump that had got through…’

D’gar barely heard a word he said. Having him back safe was such a relief. It was like letting out a breath you’d been unaware you were holding.

‘Then there was this other tangle we had to chase down.’ H’rek moved back and demonstrated the manoeuvre with his hands.

D’gar nodded, encouraging him to go on.

‘And…’ H’rek’s expression changed. ‘You’ve got blood all over you.’

‘I know. It’s not mine. I helped get an injured man off his dragon.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Fine, honestly. Why don’t we go and get cleaned up and you can tell me the rest. We’re about finished here.’ He called Herebeth down from the heights.

‘H’rek!’ Bavi was on her way over. ‘Well done.’

‘That’s what Lessa said as well…’ He started showing her the moves Rioth had made while D’gar mounted up. Suddenly he became aware he was being watched. F’drun was loading his tools back onto Ryth’s harness and staring at him - at them both - with an unfathomable expression. It brought back the sense of unease he had been feeling all day. Nothing had happened, this time, but next time they might not be so lucky.


	13. A New Weyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar finds out more about F'drun's past and gets a new weyr.

It had been an easy Fall; not too many injuries and no fatalities. D’gar joined the rest of his Wing for the evening meal, sitting in the Wingsecond’s place to R’feem’s left.

‘Pity you missed that one,’ J’rud said, leaning across. ‘Nice and short. Good weather. No one hurt.’

He meant in their Wing, of course. D’gar had dropped his bloodstained clothes off at the laundry on the way in. Despite spending a fair amount of time in the bathing pool, it still felt like some of the blood might have somehow insinuated itself under his skin; as if he couldn’t scrub it all away.

‘And your lad’s fine, too.’

The initial relief he’d felt at seeing H’rek safe and well had faded. Presumably the opportunity hadn’t presented itself, this time. Or maybe he was just being too suspicious and there never had been any danger at all. Maybe F’drun's whole intention had just been to worry him?

‘You all right?’

‘Hmm? Yes. Fine. Just thinking.’

J’rud held up a cup. ‘You know the saying, “Get drinking, stop thinking”. Have some more wine.’

D’gar took a sip. Not too much. He didn’t want to end up drunk. He might overlook something important if he let that happen.

R’feem turned to him. ‘Did you manage to have a talk with F’drun today?’

He didn’t need reminding of that, either. Had it been just an attempt to rattle him, or some kind of threat? ‘Sort of,’ he said.

R’feem raised his eyebrows. ‘And?’

‘He didn’t exactly endear himself to me. But Ryth and Herebeth co-operated enough for a rescue.’

‘Well, that’s a step in the right direction, at least. Don’t know where he’s got to, do you?’

‘I don’t. No.’ He glanced over to the top table. He could see F’lar and Lessa but there was no sign of Kylara. He’d lay odds that wherever she was, F’drun would also be there.

‘Go and have a word with his colleagues, will you? See if they know. He should be here with the rest of the Wing, even if he wasn’t fighting today.’

‘Sure.’ D’gar stood and went over to the little cluster of riders from High Reaches. ‘Anyone seen F’drun.’

V’vil shook his head. ‘Probably with his new girlfriend, if I know F’drun.'

‘That’s what I thought. But I can’t exactly go to her weyr and have a look, can I?’ Still, while he was here, he might as well take the opportunity to do a little research. ‘Mind if I sit for a while?’

V’vil gestured toward the space at the end of the bench. ‘Go ahead. So, what is it you want to know?’

Was it so obvious? ‘I might just want to have a friendly chat. We’re in the same Wing, after all.’

‘True.’ V’vil glanced along the table. ‘Just I don’t see much mixing going on. Fort stays with Fort, Igen with Igen, us three on our own and Benden don’t talk to any of us.’

He’d summed it up fairly well. ‘The way I see it, we’re all going to be stuck here for a while. We might as well make new friends.’

‘Like you have with that Benden lad, eh?’ T’rai, the green rider said with a smirk. Trust him to notice.

‘That was chance as much as anything. Herebeth caught his dragon, second day we got here. Then we found out we liked each other.’ He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t deliberate.’

‘Mating flight leads to romance. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.’ T’rai nodded sagely. ‘You don’t have anyone, back at Fort?’

He shook his head. ‘Not since the last Pass.’ He could see from their faces they understood his meaning. 'How about you?’

‘No one special,’ V’vil said.

‘What about Pilgra?’ T’rai put in. ‘Thought you had something going with her?’ 

V’vil shrugged. ‘Now I’m gone, she’ll find someone else. Probably whoever’s dragon catches Segrith next time.’ 

T’burrad spoke next. ‘I left my weyrmate back there. Bastard T’kul. At least he could have transferred us both.’ 

‘It’s how he works. Divide and conquer.’ T’rai spoke matter-of-factly. ‘Splits people up into different Wings, swaps riders around all the time. Sends them away when their dragons look a bit too likely to threaten his leadership.’ 

D’gar remembered the first time he’d spoken to these riders, when they’d told him he was F’drun’s next victim. High Reaches, it seemed, was not a happy Weyr. Living under such a regime must’ve made them suspicious of everyone’s motives. Yet despite that, they’d bothered to warn him and they seemed decent enough folk. ‘How about F’drun? Does he have anyone back there?’

T’burrad laughed. ‘Who’d want to spend any more time with him than they had to?’

‘Well, he might not always be so unpleasant,’ D’gar said.

‘Oh, he is. Trust me,’ T’rai said. ‘My Hinarth let herself get caught by Ryth once. I was in the infirmary for two days afterwards. Most of the Lower Cavern women went out of their way to avoid him, too.’

D’gar wondered what attracted Kylara to him if that was the case. Of course, he’d not get away with mistreating a Weyrwoman, even a junior. Failing everything else, her dragon wouldn’t allow it.

‘It was good to see someone stand up to him,’ T’rai went on. ‘Even if you did end up the worse for wear.’

‘Well, he was going to pick on me anyway. I couldn’t just stand by and watch someone else get hurt.’

‘Seen him since?’ T’burrad asked.

‘This afternoon.’ The less said about that the better.

‘Watch out for him. After what you did…’ V’vil shook his head sadly. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in your boots.’

‘I’d sort of figured that out for myself.’ Should he try to dig a little deeper? It had to be worth a try. ‘So, has he always been like that? I mean, people aren’t generally born nasty.’ T’burrad looked to be a similar age. He might have known F’drun as a boy.

‘That one was,’ T’burrad said. ‘His foster mother never understood it. All the rest of the kids she brought up were sweet as nuts. Not him. Used to bully the younger kids no end. Everyone hoped he wouldn’t Impress. He stood on the Sands five times before he got lucky and even then, I reckon it was purely through lack of choice. There’d been several clutches close together and not too many boys of the right age were left. Course, when he got a bronze, that was it.’

D’gar could imagine. Bronze riders were at the top of the Weyr hierarchy and could even become Weyrleader one day if their dragon flew the senior queen. A lot of them were arrogant; some downright insufferable, pulling rank whenever they could. Others, like R’feem, used their position responsibly. It wasn’t difficult to imagine which group F’drun fell into. ‘How long was he a Wingleader at High Reaches?’

V’vil answered. ‘Three Turns, give or take. Worst three Turns of my life. He was Wingsecond for a few before that, but B’vret kept a tight control over him. Didn’t let him get away with too much.’

‘Poor old B’vret,’ T’burrad mused. ‘He was a good Wingleader. Your R’feem reminds me of him a bit.’

‘So, did he retire, or what?’

V’vil pulled a face. ‘Nasty accident did for him. Had a flamethrower blow up in his face when he was testing it. That was when F’drun took over the Wing.’

‘An accident?’ D’gar’s suspicions were roused, especially as F’drun had stood to gain from it.

T’burrad just looked at him knowingly. ‘I can guess what you’re thinking. Lots of folk wondered, at the time.’

‘You know how it is during a Pass,’ V’vil added. ’T’kul was more concerned with getting a new Wingleader in place for the next Fall than in finding out the whys and wherefores.’

‘Far as I know, B’vret was always very careful, very thorough.’ T’burrad said. ‘Mind you, it only takes one mistake…’

What he’d heard hadn’t done anything to lessen his fears. If anything, they’d confirmed that he was right to be very careful where F’drun was concerned. Rumour and speculation it might be, but there was often a grain of truth in every story. Still, it seemed that if he wanted to find out more, a trip to High Reaches might be in order. He needed to check their records anyway; none of the hides he had been given contained any information about T’burrad or T’rai. Of course, it was out of the question while he couldn’t fly _between_ , so would have to wait for the time being.

The following morning, he made a trip to the infirmary to get his wounds checked.

‘Another day or so and you should be all right,’ the healer said. ‘It’s not looking too bad, although a couple of the deeper cuts have opened up again. You could probably have done without the heroics yesterday.’

‘Heroics?’

‘Climbing up on that dragon to get the rider down.’

‘Not much choice, was there?’ He’d reacted instinctively, not really taking the time to think about consequences. ‘How is he?’

‘Doing better than expected, considering how much blood he lost.’

‘Good.’

‘I think his weyrmate wants to thank you. He’s over there.’ The healer gestured to a bed further down the cavern. ‘Go and see him, while you’re here.’

A few more of the beds had been filled, thanks to Threadfall. The antiseptic smell of redwort caught in his throat. Unless he was injured, he preferred to spend as little time in the infirmary as possible.

He stopped at the bedside. The green rider was semi-conscious. It looked as though he was heavily drugged. His weyrmate was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, holding his hand. They were both young; barely out of their teens, D’gar reckoned. He’d not had time to notice much in the way of details yesterday. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘The, ah, healer said to come over.’

‘Are you the rider who saved him?’

‘Hardly. You can thank the professionals for that. I just helped out.’

‘You’re the one who climbed up on Miluth, though?’

D’gar nodded.

‘Then you did save him. If you’d not got him down so fast, he wouldn’t be here now.’ He stood, letting his weyrmate’s hand drop gently and hugged D’gar with genuine feeling. ‘Thank you, from both of us.’

‘How is he?’

D’gar heard a voice behind him, oddly familiar, although when he turned, he didn’t recognise the man. He must be around thirty, with black hair and the same kind of deep tan the other two - and H’rek - had. Which must mean all of them had been in the south until recently.

The youngster stood back. ‘Still alive, thanks to this one. Sorry, I didn’t get your name?’

‘D’gar, Herebeth’s rider.’

‘From Fort, is that right?’ The older man asked. ‘You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.’

‘Eh?’ D’gar was puzzled. He didn’t remember meeting this rider before. From his knots, he was also a Benden Wingsecond and rode a brown dragon.

‘By the lake, a couple of days ago?’

‘Ah.’ Was he never going to live that down? The whole Weyr must know by now.

‘Are you the one who nearly drowned? And your dragon rescued you?’ The youngster looked impressed.

D’gar felt his face start to flush. It was best to leave before someone mentioned dragons fighting and the whole mess got dredged up again. ‘Well, er, give my regards to your weyrmate, when he wakes. I’d better get on.’

‘No, wait,’ said the older man. ‘I owe you my thanks as well. C’vash here,’ and he gestured to the injured man, ‘is in our Wing. I’m F’nor, by the way. Canth’s rider.’

It was all becoming clear now. This was the Weyrleader’s brother, who’d seen the whole thing. Close up, you could see the family resemblance. H’rek had spoken of him a few times and seemed to hold him in high regard. ‘I’m sorry about all that,’ D’gar said. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

‘Nonsense, man. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, if you’d not been grounded, you wouldn’t have been around to help C’vash yesterday. Sometimes, good things come from bad.’

That was true enough, he supposed. It still felt unwarranted, though. ‘I was just a bit quicker to get moving than anyone else. I’m sure they would have done the same.’

‘Well, I expect you’ve more experience than the rest of us. We’re still new to all this.’

D’gar could see why H’rek liked F’nor. He had a way of making you feel at ease. Plus, although he was related to the Weyrleader, he obviously wasn’t one to abuse that privileged position. ‘You’ll get used to it pretty quickly,’ he said. In a Turn or two, it would feel as if they had been fighting Thread forever.

F’nor smiled and started chatting to C’vash’s weyrmate. D’gar left them to it and went in search of Manora. He still had to see about upgrading his weyr. It didn’t really bother him being up in the higher levels of the Bowl and now that H’rek had changed everything around, the place was fairly homely. However, a Wingsecond was expected to have a better appointed weyr befitting his rank and they could do with a bit more room.

So early in the day, it was quiet in the dining hall. Breakfast had finished and lunch was still a long way off. Towards the back of the main cavern, well out of any draughts, a few elderly folks had pulled up comfortable chairs around the hearth. D’gar had never paid them much attention previously. Back at Fort, he’d often chatted with the old uncles and aunties, but that was because they’d been a part of his life since growing up as a weyrbrat. These people had lived their lives in a time and place where he still didn’t feel quite at home. Mind you, they’d be likely to know where Manora could be found at this time of the day.

He poured a mug of klah and made his way across. One of them - a retired blue rider with a face full of wrinkles and silver hair - looked up as he approached. He nudged the one sitting next to him and this seemed to follow along so that by the time he was close enough to speak, all of them were alert and watching. Well, they probably didn’t get much excitement in their day.

‘Morning,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful and friendly. ‘I wonder if any of you know where I could find Manora.’

They all glanced at each other. ‘Well, she’ll most probably be in her office, this time of the morning,’ one offered

‘Unless she’s checking the stores. Tithe came in last sevenday, didn’t it?’ said another.

The others nodded at this, sucked at toothless gums and made noises of assent.

‘What do you want her for anyway?’ The first asked.

‘Well, I need to see about changing my weyr.’ It wasn’t any of their business, really, but there was no harm in being polite.

‘What’s up? Plumbing not working again?’

An elderly woman cackled. ‘Your plumbing’s not been working for years, Z’bril.’ The others joined in. When it finally subsided, she fixed D’gar with a sharp look. ‘You’re one of those new ones, aren’t you?’

‘Er, yes. From Fort Weyr.’ He gestured to his shoulder knots.

‘Fancy that. So, you came forward through time, did you? With young Lessa?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well, sit yourself down. Tell us about it.’

‘Um, well…’ It wasn’t as if he had anything pressing to do. He pulled up a stool and gave them the whole story; how Lessa and Ramoth had arrived in the past and how she had told them they were needed to fight Thread in her own, far distant time. He drew on his memories of the night they’d journeyed forward and how the Weyrs had come together to meet Thread at Telgar. ‘And then, as we were needed, some of us transferred here. Just until Benden’s numbers are up again, of course.’

‘Well, that was quite a tale,’ the silver-haired uncle said. ‘Quite a tale. I thought I’d seen a few things in my life but that tops them all.’

D’gar smiled. ‘It’s been good talking, but I’d best get on.’ If he didn’t get away soon, they might keep him here all morning. They probably didn’t get much chance to speak with new people very often. ‘Where did you say the Headwoman’s office was?’

‘Down that tunnel, third door on the right.’

‘Thanks.’

It was a main tunnel, well-lit with glows. He passed a few other entrances on the way, leading who knows where. Benden was almost as old as Fort, so there must be the same maze of ancient tunnels leading into the depths of the Weyr. Doubtless the weyrbrats here dared each other to explore as he and his friends had done, braving the unseen rustling of tunnel snakes and frightening each other with ghost stories told in the darkness.

The third door was propped ajar and soft voices came from within. One male, one female. D’gar knocked cautiously, not wishing to intrude on anything. ‘Hello,’ he called.

‘Come in.’ Manora sat behind a large desk. F’nor perched on the edge, opposite her. They seemed very much at ease in each other’s company.

‘Sorry. I’m not disturbing, er, anything am I?’ Manora was a lot older than F’nor, but that didn’t necessarily figure when it came to attraction.

A smile curved Manora’s lips. ‘Not at all. Just catching up with my son.’

Ah, so that was it. He could see the resemblance now that they were together. Another disadvantage of not belonging; you had no idea who was related, who were lovers or who hated each other. ‘It’s about my weyr.’

Manora rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s the plumbing?’

‘No, no, everything works fine. It’s just, well, I’ve been promoted to Wingsecond recently and I’ve got a weyrmate now so I could do with a bit more space.’

‘Let me have a look.’ She stood and took a slate down from one of the well-organised shelves, scanning it swiftly.

F’nor looked over her shoulder, then pointed. ‘What about F’lar’s old weyr?’

‘Well…’

‘He’s not going to need it again is he? Ramoth won’t let any dragon other than Mnementh fly her.’

‘It’s a Wingleaders weyr, though. For a bronze.’

‘Yes, but it’s not as if we’re running out of space round here. Anyway, he deserves it. He saved one of our wingmen yesterday.’

‘Hmm.’ Manora looked him up and down as if judging whether he was worthy of such an honour.

‘Really, it’s fine. Anywhere with room for two dragons will do.’ He didn’t want to attract any more unwarranted attention.

‘Who is your weyrmate?’

‘H’rek, green Rioth.’

‘One of Prideth’s clutch,’ F’nor said. ‘He was with us down in Southern. Good lad.’

That seemed to clinch it. ‘I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but as F’nor seems to think you’re worth it…’

‘I really appreciate it.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ She made a mark on the slate and returned it to its allocated space. ‘F’nor can show you where it is.’

‘Yes, mother,’ he sighed. ‘Come on, then.’

As they walked back through the dining cavern, D’gar felt he ought to say something. ‘Er, thanks for that.’

‘Don’t mention it. Mother… Manora can be a bit of a stickler for the rules. But I’ve taken over one of the junior queens weyrs since I got back and there are plenty of empty weyrs so it's not as if you’re depriving someone else.’

They emerged into the light of the Bowl. F’nor pointed. ‘That one up there, third along. It’s got a service shaft and a bathing pool. No stairs down, but you’ve both got dragons, so that won’t be a problem.’

F’nor left him to go off on his own business, which D’gar sensed encompassed more than just the normal duties of a Wingsecond in the Weyrleader’s Wing. H’rek had given him the impression that F’nor had been the one in charge at Southern, despite bronze rider T’bor holding the title of Weyrleader. It wasn’t entirely surprising; the brothers were evidently close (unlike some siblings, who hated each other’s guts) and F’lar would have wanted to have someone reliable reporting back on such an important project. Having learned from Gr’lon that there was no love lost between F’lar and R’gul, the former Weyrleader, that gave even more reason to have someone he could trust watching his back.

_Want to have a look at your new weyr,_ he asked Herebeth. _Let Rioth know, as well._ The Southern riders had gone off on a patrol first thing this morning, but H’rek would be able to join him later. They’d also need to rustle up some volunteers to move all their bits and pieces across. Best bet would be to invite all the helpers round for drinks afterwards; that generally worked.

Herebeth had been sunning himself up on the rim, near the watch dragon. He glided down and landed close by then flew D’gar up to the ledge of the new weyr, its rocky lip scarred by countless landings over the Turns.

_Well, how do you like it?_

Herebeth snuffled around then tried out the sizeable couch. _It is warmer here. There is also a better view._

_Plenty of room for two dragons, as well._ Leaving Herebeth to settle, he carried on through to the sleeping chamber. It was a little dusty from disuse but much larger than the room in his existing weyr. Everything had been cleared out, as was usual with empty weyrs; all that had been left was the bed and a clothes chest. He lay down, trying out the mattress for comfort. Better than what was in his current weyr, or H’rek’s for that matter. The ceiling above was high and arched, giving a sense of spaciousness. The natural striations of the rock made pleasing patterns, good for daydreaming and letting your imagination make pictures. He wondered how many Turns F’lar had occupied the place and whether he’d regretted leaving it. Of course, the Weyrwoman’s chambers was a step up even from this.

He stood and explored further. At the back, the bathing pool burbled gently as water circulated. It was pleasantly warm and looked to be deep enough to swim over on the far side where it met the rock face. D’gar had never known the luxury of having a private pool; he’d always had to be content with the communal bathing facilities. He wondered if R’feem’s weyr was similarly equipped. It wouldn’t look good to have a better appointed weyr than his Wingleader. Still, F’nor had reckoned he deserved it and he supposed that as had been said, some good things did come from bad. If F’drun had not been so ready to victimise him, he’d not have become Wingsecond at all and would have gone unnoticed by the Benden leadership. Maybe he should thank F’drun for his good fortune. That would really rile the man.

The sound of another dragon landing on the ledge brought him out of his musing. In a few moments, H’rek rushed in. He looked all around, his eyes widening. ‘Is this really going to be your weyr?’

‘Our weyr,’ D’gar corrected him. ‘If you’re happy with it as well, then yes.’

‘Happy? It’s amazing. And is that a pool at the back?’

‘Mmm.’ D’gar let himself be dragged over to inspect it.

‘Wow.’ H’rek splashed the water. He looked so enthusiastic, D’gar thought he might rip off his clothes and leap in. Come to think of it, that wasn’t a bad idea. There were plenty of things, apart from bathing, that a private pool would be good for.

However, after a few more splashes, H’rek carried on with his examination of the weyr, wrinkling his nose when he found the necessary. ‘Needs a good clean.’

‘The whole place does. It’s not been used for a few months.’

‘Oh?’

‘F’nor said it was his brother’s weyr, before -‘

‘Shards! This is F’lar’s old weyr? Do you know how lucky you are to end up with something like this?’

‘It’s thanks to F’nor I got it. He put in a good word with Manora. I never knew she was his mother.’

‘I thought everyone knew that.’

‘Everyone from Benden, maybe. Don’t forget, I’ve only been here a couple of sevendays. I’m still finding my feet.’

‘Well, you’ve found them pretty well so far.’ He scanned the rest of the weyr. ‘Oh. You’ve got a service shaft too.’

‘Handy, isn’t it? We can order hot klah and snacks without having to go down to the dining hall. It’ll be useful for when I’m working on reports and such. Breakfast in bed, too, if we want.’

H’rek peered down the shaft. ‘Hmm. There are other uses for these, too.’ His voice sounded hollow in the enclosed space.

‘Really. Like what?’

He turned slightly. ‘Well, Bavi told me you can hear what people are saying inside a weyr if you hold your head at just the right angle. After all, the thing’s designed to amplify voices, so they can hear your order. It works both ways.’

D’gar was slightly sceptical. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t kidding you?’

‘No. It’s how the Lower Caverns staff found out about all you lot coming forward to help us, well before it was made public.’ He moved around, seemingly experimenting with the idea. Suddenly he was still. ‘That’s it. Ssh.’ After a few seconds he emerged. ‘Have a go yourself if you don’t believe me.’

D’gar went over and peered inside the shaft. He wasn’t all that keen on sticking his head inside the dark and slightly claustrophobic opening. Imagination provided all sorts of horrible things that might result; a tunnel snake jumping onto him, or the mechanism suddenly starting up and taking his head off before he could get out of its way.

‘Go on, then,’ H’rek said. ‘It’s quite safe.’

D’gar leaned inside cautiously, listening for any sounds that might indicate impending doom. It was echoey. He fancied he could hear faint whisperings that might be distant voices and tilted his head first one way, then the other until they became clearer.

‘…just get those wherries gutted, my girl and less of your cheek…’ The voice sounded as if it was coming from the end of a long tunnel, which it was, of course.

D’gar pulled back, almost hitting his head on the edge of the aperture. ‘I just heard someone.’

‘Well, there you go, then.’

‘I wonder how much they can overhear? I’m not sure I like the idea of Lower Cavern staff getting off listening in on whatever we’re doing.’

‘You could always put a curtain - or a tapestry - over it. That should muffle the sound. Anyway, I doubt they have the time to listen in that often, just when they want to find out something important.’

D’gar wasn’t so sure about that, although the information set him thinking. ‘How many weyrs have these?’

‘Bavi would know. But I expect it’s all of the bronze weyrs, plus the queens’ weyrs of course. Why?’

‘Well, it might be a way to check up on whatever F’drun’s plotting with Kylara. If she’s got one of these in her weyr, then maybe I could listen in.’

H’rek frowned. ‘And you’re concerned about people invading your privacy?’

He was right, of course. ‘I know. But I keep wondering what he’s up to. Not knowing bothers me.’

‘They’re probably just doing what people usually get up to in their weyrs.’

‘They can’t be doing that all the time. He must be eating with her as well. We hardly ever see him in the dining hall these days. Who knows what lies he’s telling her?’

‘Kylara’s not a fool,’ H’rek said, shaking his head. ‘She’s a bit spoilt and she enjoys stirring things up, but she wouldn’t believe just anything.’

Presumably he knew her better than most, having spent all that time down south with her. ‘Maybe not,’ D’gar conceded. ‘But I don’t trust F’drun. There’s got to be some reason he’s spending so much time with her, beyond just sex. Some ulterior motive.’

H’rek was quiet for a few moments. ‘I can see why you feel like that. But it’s much more likely she’s just using him like she uses everyone. Prideth’s going to rise soon. She’ll be courting half the bronzes in the Weyr, if I know Kylara.'

‘Bavi said that too.’

‘There you go, then. F’drun can say whatever he wants about you. Doesn’t mean he can hurt you.’

D’gar wished he could believe it. ‘That’s a change of tune, isn’t it? You were accusing him of trying to drown me the other day and then trying to work out what he had against me.’

‘Yes, but what can he actually do? You outrank him now. And even if he is with Kylara, she’s got nowhere near the amount of influence as, say, F’nor. Keep an eye on him, by all means, but don’t let yourself get obsessed. I’d say he’s doing a pretty good job of winding you up right now and he’s not had to lift a finger.’


	14. Going South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prideth is getting close to rising, causing tension in the Weyr. M'rell isn't happy with D'gar.

Moving in to the new weyr had gone very smoothly, not least because most of the Wing were keen to see it for themselves once rumour had got around of D’gar’s good fortune. With thirty or so people inside, it seemed far less roomy, although several of them had decided to try out the bathing pool which freed up space in the main living area.

‘More wine, anyone?’ D’gar was carrying a skin around and topping up everyone’s cups as G’reden and T’rai carried more food over from the service shaft.

‘You’d best get over there,’ G’reden said, putting a tray of meat rolls down on the desk. ’T’garrin is taking bets as to whether someone can get inside and ride down to the kitchen.’

‘Thanks.’ D’gar made his way through to find one of H’rek’s clutchmates trying to fit himself into the small, rectangular box. He was fairly compact, but even so, it was clear that anyone the wrong side of ten Turns just wasn’t going to make it.

‘Best get out of there before you break something,’ he suggested. The mechanism or yourself, he thought, gory visions of limbs being pulled off going through his mind.

‘Oh, come on. I’ll bet this isn’t the first time someone’s tried it.’ T’garrin sounded slightly drunk.

‘Probably not,’ he agreed. ‘But I’ve had this weyr less than a day and I’d rather not have to call the maintenance crew just yet.’ He helped the youngster climb out. ‘Go and get something to eat, or join the rest in the pool. Just do something slightly less dangerous, please.’

T’garrin sighed. ‘Thought I was going to win some marks then.’

‘You still can. I’m sure you’ve brought your cards along.’ He chivvied T’garrin away and pulled the heavy curtain back across the opening. Putting that up had been one of the first things they’d done. It stopped any draughts and would also – hopefully - stop anyone eavesdropping. As he turned away, he caught R’feem’s eye. The Wingleader had stationed himself at the end of the stone bench that curved around the wall of the weyr. Despite having had a few drinks, he still appeared fairly sober. 

‘I was going to step in myself if it looked like they were about to set it moving,’ he said. ‘But it’s probably just as well to put a stop to it. Fingers crossed we might have the whole Wing fit and present for next Threadfall.’

‘Let’s hope so. I’m going to try flying tomorrow. I reckon the healers here are being a bit over-cautious.’

R’feem nodded. ‘They’re still acting as though it’s an Interval. All the time in the world.’

‘My thoughts too. I’d rather not sit out another Fall. And it’s a short one again, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right. West of Bitra and Lemos, then passing over to Telgar Weyr for the last couple of hours. It’s a mix of terrain. Lots of forestry in Lemos these days, so I’m told.’

‘Great. Let’s hope nothing much gets through.’ Finding Thread burrows on cultivated land was bad enough, but among a tightly packed plantation of trees, it would be a nightmare.

‘They’ll have to fire the sharding lot if it comes to it. I appreciate having decent wooden furniture as much as anyone, but there comes a point in a Pass where it’s just not practical. I don’t think the Holders have realised that yet.’

‘Or the Weyr, for that matter. Don’t you think…’ he paused for a quick check around to see if any Benden folk were in earshot before carrying on. ‘They’re a bit too ready to give in to Holders demands.’

‘My impression too. Again, that’ll change, given time. Once the Weyrleader realises he can’t please everyone…’ R’feem peered into his cup. ‘Hmm, seems to be empty.’

‘I’ll fetch some more. I noticed H’rek had a skin of Benden white tucked away under the bed. Not sure how he got his hands on that, but we might as well drink it before anyone else finds it.’

When he got back, he found R’feem chatting to a couple of the youngsters. ‘We’ll have to see what your Weyrleader thinks to that,’ he was saying. ‘I’m not opposed to the idea myself, although we need more blues and greens at the moment rather than bronzes.’

They moved off. D’gar poured refills for himself and R’feem. ‘What did they want?’

‘Trying to see if they can get a place in our Wing. I’ve no objection, but I’m not sure how Benden would feel about it. They’re thinking of forming a new Wing soon, you know.’

‘Ah.’

‘Yes, with one of their younger bronzes in charge. Personally, I think they’d do better to mix ‘em in with the existing Wings rather than have a whole load of youngsters all together.’

‘There’d be no harm in us taking a few up to gain experience, surely? Even on a temporary basis.’ H’rek would be keen, he knew, given the chance.

‘I’ll bring it up at the next Wingleaders’ meeting.’ He sipped the wine and gave a smile. ‘It’s been a while since I had stuff this good.’

‘At least four hundred Turns,’ D’gar joked. ‘Cheers.’

Much later, when everyone had flown off to their own weyrs, he surveyed the mess left behind. ‘Probably a good job we didn’t clean beforehand,’ he commented. The floor was sticky from spilled wine (fortunately not the Benden white) and a few meat rolls had been trodden underfoot. Cups floated on the surface of the pool - there’d been some kind of mini boat race going on towards the end of the party - and a variety of dirty eating and drinking vessels had been abandoned on any horizontal surface available.

‘Bit of a mess, isn’t it?’ H’rek started to gather up the empty cups.

‘Yes, but I think everyone enjoyed it. And there was actually some mixing going on. Didn’t I see V’chal trying to chat up one of your clutchmates?’

H’rek grinned. ‘Several of them, I think. Although not all at once.’

‘Keeping his options open for the next time Lilith rises, I expect.’ He loaded a stack of dishes into the service shaft.

‘Did you speak to M’rell much this evening?’ H’rek asked, as they carried on clearing up.

‘I think I had a few words with everyone at some point. Why?’

‘He seemed a bit off, that’s all.’

‘He gets like that sometimes. He’s probably been unlucky in love again.’

H’rek poured the dregs from several cups down the necessary. ‘I think it’s a bit more than that. I couldn’t help overhearing when he was chatting with a couple of the lads from Igen.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘He resents your promotion.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, he was saying that he thought he could have done as good a job and that R’feem only gave it to you because he felt sorry for you. Then he spotted me and changed the subject. Just thought you should know, that’s all.’

‘I appreciate that. But don’t worry. He’ll be fine.’ D’gar gathered up some empty trays and pushed them into the service shaft. ‘If he could see the amount of admin R’feem’s piled on to me, he’d not be so keen. Still, I’ll be back to full duty soon.’

‘Oh? Did you get cleared by the healers, then?’

‘Not exactly. But I’m going up for a spin on Herebeth tomorrow morning to see how I feel.’ He noticed the look on H’rek’s face. ‘I’m not being reckless or anything. They’re erring on the side of caution. I know when I’m all right to fly.’

‘Fly, maybe. What about catching full sacks of firestone? What about going _between?’_

‘There’s a lot of misinformation on the dangers of going _between_ with injuries, you know. If it’s not an open wound or too deep, it’s fine. What I had was no worse than a minor Thread score and I’ve been sent straight back up for the next Fall after those in the past.’

H’rek still looked dubious.

‘Tell you what, if you’ve nowhere else you need to be, why don’t you come too? I’ve never been flying with you and Rioth and you can keep an eye on me that way.’

‘Well, if you’re sure…’

He cast an eye around the weyr. ‘I think we’ve cleared the worst of it away now. I reckon it’s about time we tried out that nice, big, comfortable bed, don’t you?’

The following morning, they made their way to the dining hall. H’rek had wanted to have breakfast in their weyr, but D’gar had imagined what his mother would have said if the occupants of a weyr left her all that clearing up late at night and then demanded breakfast the next day. And at least she would only have grumbled about it. Some of the Lower Caverns workers had other, less savoury ways of showing their annoyance.

Evidently, M’rell had thought along the same lines. ‘Gracing us with your presence this morning, D’gar? Thought you’d have eaten your breakfast in private, not mucked in with the rest of us.’

Although it was said lightly enough, D’gar sensed an undertone there. ‘All because I can doesn’t mean I have to,’ he retorted. There was so much more he wanted to say; that he’d ended up with a nice weyr through luck rather than design and that if M’rell had stood up to F’drun that morning and been the one to get half-drowned, then he might have had the same good fortune. However, this wasn’t the time or place.

‘I see what you mean about M’rell,’ he said quietly when H’rek joined him in line for the cooked breakfasts. ‘He’s definitely not happy with me.’ He decided to go and sit with M’rell, just to show he wasn’t getting above himself but R’feem beckoned him over so he ended up next to B’lin as they ate. H’rek had spotted Bavi and had gone over to chat with her by the night hearth.

‘I had a good time yesterday evening,’ B’lin said. ‘Nice to see everyone socialising together, too.’

He’d been deep in conversation with one of the Benden green riders for most of it. Probably motivated by more than just fostering good relations between Weyrs there, D’gar thought.

R’feem leaned across. ’We’ll be overflying the area for tomorrow’s Fall this afternoon. Think you’ll be up to joining us?’

‘I’ll let you know later. But I’m fairly sure I’ll be all right.’

R’feem’s gaze swept around the hall. ‘Still no sign of F’drun. I’ll get Piroth to bespeak Ryth and find out where he is.’

How could he not be aware of the latest rumours concerning F’drun and Kylara? D’gar glanced quickly at B’lin and from the look he returned, he knew exactly where F’drun was likely to be.

R’feem caught on too. ‘Yes, I’ve heard the gossip. I know who he’s been seen with lately. It’s not entirely surprising. Piroth’s been unsettled these past few days. He can sense when a queen dragon’s going to rise as well as any.’

‘Think she’ll go before or after Fall?’ B’lin asked.

‘After, I reckon. Two, maybe three days at most. Still, at least none of our greens are glowing yet.’

D’gar knew what he was getting at. The intensity of a gold dragon’s mating urges often made greens who were coming close to that point in their cycle rise early. It wasn’t uncommon for the queen's mating flight to be followed shortly after by several greens taking to the skies. They’d be chased by a whole host of frustrated males, including some of the losing bronzes. Although dragons’ instincts prevented them rising during Threadfall, if a gold flight happened too close beforehand, a considerable number of dragons could end up out of action due to exhaustion and injury. Not to mention the state of their riders.

‘How long’s it been since Ondiath chased a green?’ he asked B’lin.

‘Too long. Don’t think I’ll be able to persuade him to give it a miss, especially under circumstances like these.’

R’feem sighed. ‘Piroth’s not going to be pleased either. We’ll have to leave the Weyr before Prideth rises so I’d best let him go after a green to keep him happy.’

Great. That meant there was a distinct possibility both of them would get caught up in the crazy aftermath of the main mating flight. ‘Better hope I’m all right to fly then, as Herebeth’s probably the only dragon out of our three who won’t get involved. He’s still besotted with Rioth.’

‘Like dragon, like rider.’ B’lin said, with a smirk. ‘Do you think Ondiath might be able to catch himself a Benden green? Seems to have worked out well for you.’

‘You won’t know unless you try.’

Back in his weyr, he took Herebeth’s fighting straps off the pegs and checked them over. The dragon looked at him quizzically. _Are we flying this morning?_

_If that’s all right with you. Now could you just lower your head while I get this on?_

Herebeth obliged and a ripple of excitement transmitted through their bond. He was obviously keen to get airborne again, even though the day had started overcast and looked to be steadily deteriorating. It would probably be raining by lunchtime.

_I do not mind rain._

_No, it just runs off your hide. It’s not so good for me._ Oiled wherhide was all right for a shower, but if you were out in it for any length of time, water inevitably found its way through. He’d had his fair share of miserable patrols in bad weather. This afternoon might be another one. Still, at least they’d be flying with the Wing again, so he couldn’t really complain.

Rioth shook herself and flapped her wings as H’rek got his own straps down. D’gar was pleased to note that he took good care to check and adjust them correctly. At least that part of his training seemed to have been thorough, even if there had been shortcomings elsewhere.

‘Right. We’ll take it easy at first, then try out some trickier moves once I’m happy. If you stay a good two dragon lengths to my right, we should have plenty of room for manoeuvre. Just try to keep up, all right?’

He climbed on board, noting that it was much easier today. He was definitely on the mend.

Herebeth set off in a low glide, then a few easy wingbeats brought him up to the rim of the Bowl. Rioth followed close behind.

_Be interesting to see how Rioth flies,_ he sent to Herebeth.

_I already know exactly how Rioth flies,_ the dragon replied with a smug tone. _She’s as quick as any green I’ve chased before._

It was good to be flying properly again, rather than just those short hops to and from his weyr. Herebeth enjoyed stretching his wings too and found an updraft that took them high above the Weyr and its surrounding mountains in just a few minutes. Before reaching the cloud base, he levelled off, giving Rioth time to come up alongside. D’gar tightened the straps a hole, just as he would before Fall, then shouted across to H’rek. ‘You ready for some real flying?’

He signalled back with a grin.

_Right. Let’s fly._

Herebeth could be a real show off when he wanted to and today was one of those days. D’gar was reminded of their first wildly aerobatic flights when they’d been cleared to fly alone and had revelled in the sheer joy of it. The earth and clouds rapidly changed places as Herebeth plunged in a spiralling dive, the wind howling past his ears. He was aware of Rioth’s green hide, out on the edge of his peripheral vision, as she matched Herebeth’s every move. He watched her falling below them as Herebeth powered out of the manoeuvre as only a brown or a bronze could do without strain. Rioth soon caught them up again, using the speed and agility of her own colour to its best advantage. She followed them through a series of banking turns and quick changes of direction. It was clear that she had the edge on them there. She might not be able to spin on a wingtip like some of the smaller greens, but there wasn’t much in it. Just as he registered the thought, she cut ahead of them, H’rek whooping as they overtook.

_Rioth wants to show us what she can do. She thinks we can’t keep up._

_Let’s show her, then._

Herebeth followed her instinctively, using his experience to stay right on her tail. They played in the air currents, changing places several more times. D’gar had to hang on and lean close to his neck to stop himself being thrown around. He was out of breath when they finally flew level again and although his shoulders ached, it was no more than he’d expect any time he’d pull moves like that.

‘That was wild!’ H’rek called over. ‘And fun!’

It was just beginning to rain. He felt dampness against his face as the low cloud swirled and darkened. ‘Let’s get out of this weather, eh?’ He sent an image to Herebeth with the instruction to share it with Rioth. H’rek signalled back he’d understood. D’gar gave a countdown, then went _between_ , counting slowly through the freezing nothingness until they emerged in brilliant sunshine over Keroon’s Red Butte. The air felt instantly warmer, despite their height above the rocky terrain. Rioth winked in just a breath later and the two dragons descended to land on one of the flatter parts of the famous landmark.

‘Where next?’ H’rek asked.

‘Your call. This is one of the few places I feel confident enough about on my four hundred Turn old visuals. It’s probably best for Rioth to send Herebeth coordinates for anywhere else.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Exhilarated. Alive.’

‘I meant your injuries.’

‘No aches or pains.’

‘Good.’ H’rek seemed to be thinking. ‘We’ve a couple of hours before we need to get back, haven’t we?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then I know the perfect place. Somewhere I’ve wanted to show you.’

Herebeth gave him the image; a long stretch of golden sand with a distinctively shaped rocky outcrop at one end. ‘Looks good.’

‘Shall we go, then?’ Rioth leaped into the air, quickly followed by Herebeth. H’rek glanced back and once they were in clear air, gave the signal to go _between_. They emerged into heavy heat and humidity, which almost instantly made him start sweating under the heavy wherhide jacket. The beach below was totally deserted, the sea calm and inviting, with sunshine sparkling off the turquoise-blue waters.

Almost as soon as they’d landed and the straps were off, the two dragons dived in and began splashing around happily. D’gar thought he might even be tempted to join them. Normally, he’d not think twice about it, but since his experience in the lake, he felt slightly reluctant to immerse himself again. It was silly, really. He was a good swimmer, when he wasn’t being deliberately pushed under. Plus, the salt water would be good for healing.

‘Where is this place, exactly?’ D’gar realised that he didn’t recognise a lot of the tree species. Where the sand ended, thick tropical undergrowth began. Mingled with the sound of the surf, he could also hear the buzz and chirrup of unfamiliar insects. There was an eerie stillness, as if they were the only people for miles around.

‘This is the south. But it’s… changed.’ H’rek was looking all about him as if expecting to see something that wasn’t there.

‘The southern continent, you mean?’ It looked as if no one had set foot here for a very long time. But then, H’rek had suspected as much, hadn’t he?

‘The Weyrhall should be just over there.’ He pointed in the direction of a particularly thick growth of foliage.

D’gar looked carefully. He supposed that the mass of purple flowered creepers might just have grown up in a vaguely rectangular shape. But how long would it have taken for a building to become obliterated so totally? He followed H’rek across the sands, shedding outer clothing as he went. ‘How long ago did you say you left here?’

‘We got back to Benden the day before Telgar. Two days before I met you for the first time.’

‘Even in a tropical climate, nothing grows that fast.’

‘No, I guess not.’ He sounded unsure.

The sharp smell of crushed leaves and bleeding sap filled his nostrils as H’rek trampled down the undergrowth and slashed at the vines with a dead branch he’d picked up. At last he managed to clear enough to reveal wooden framework beneath. Even that showed signs of decay; boring insects had chewed holes and there was a bright green fungus growing on it.

H’rek threw the branch away. It disappeared into the jungle instantly. ‘It can’t be. It just can’t.’ He shook his head as if trying to deny the proof he’d just found.  
D’gar imagined H’rek was feeling the same sense of dislocation in time as he often did. ’It looks as if you were right. You came back to Benden just a couple of sevendays ago, but it’s obvious this place has been abandoned for Turns. You said you thought they must have sent you back in time. This proves it.’

‘It’s one thing saying it, quite another seeing for yourself.’

‘That’s pretty much how I felt when we landed at Fort and saw the sorry state it was in. Let’s go back to the beach, eh?’ Who knows what creatures might be lurking in the undergrowth here? It felt far wilder than anywhere he’d ever been on Pern. There was something else unsettling about this place, too, which he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Something not quite… right.

H’rek led the way back to the shore and sat down on a smooth rock, still looking slightly dismayed. ‘It feels really strange. Like part of my life has vanished utterly.’

‘It’s not vanished. Just buried under foliage.’ Foliage. That was it. There was just too much of the stuff. Surely Thread must have fallen in this part of the world, as it did in the north? Yet everything was so lush. It was decidedly odd.

‘They’re going to start this place up again, you know. Southern Weyr. Bavi was telling me this morning.’

‘Really. What’s the point, now?’

‘Mainly as a way to get rid of Kylara. Lessa doesn’t get on with her. It’s one of the reasons she was sent here before. That and to raise more dragons, of course.’

So Benden would be back to only having one queen dragon. Of course, Lessa could always ask for a junior queen to be transferred from another Weyr to bring up the numbers. He wondered what had caused the rift between the two women. Oh well, another one of those things he’d find out in good time. ’They’ll have to be quick, then. Before Prideth’s too egg-heavy. R’feem reckons she’s only got a few days before she rises and he should know.’

‘Eh? How?’

‘Piroth’s interested. All the bronzes will be. They can tell.’

‘So, will they all chase her?’

‘Any bronze in the vicinity will, yes. But ours will have left before it starts.’ He noted H’rek’s puzzled expression. ‘They obviously don’t want dragons from other Weyrs chasing her, or they’d have announced an open flight. But there are plenty of Benden bronzes to keep Prideth happy. I expect some of your clutchmates will be in it as well.’

H’rek grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t wish Kylara on any of them.’

‘Not up to them is it? If their dragons want to fly, that’s it. And if it’s any consolation, they probably don’t have enough experience to catch her this time around. It should be quite a sight, anyway.’

‘I’ve never seen a gold flight before.’

D’gar smiled, remembering Loranth’s last flight. ‘Even the non-riders get swept up in it. Imagine everyone in the Weyr getting into a state like you did when Rioth rose and you won’t be far out. No work gets done, that’s for sure.’

‘Is that where the Holder rumours of wild orgies comes from?’

‘Probably. My mother found herself pregnant after one memorable queen flight. Apparently, my father’s one of the three men she had that day.’ He noticed that H’rek seemed concerned. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t totally lose your mind like when your own dragon rises.’

‘I hope not. I don’t enjoy not being able to remember what’s happened.’

‘It’s not like that. You’ll see.’ It was probably a good thing Rioth had only just risen, so there was no chance of him getting caught up in the aftermath. ‘You might want to warn your clutchmates, though. It can set the greens off early, if their cycle’s close.’ He’d probably said enough. He could see that worried expression on H’rek’s face again. ‘Anyway, let’s have a swim while we’re here and get some sun. I’ve a feeling it’ll be the last we see of it today, once we’re back at Benden.’


	15. Fall Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thread falls over Bitra and Lemos.

‘Can tell you’re back with us again today.’ J’rud tucked into his own breakfast as D’gar stared at the bowl of porridge in front of him. The weather this morning was no better than it had proved to be the previous afternoon; worse, in fact, as far as Threadfall was concerned. Heavy rain would be an ally; a sufficient quantity of water drowned Thread before it got to the ground. Instead, they had drizzle, interspersed with brief downpours from the ragged grey cloud that licked around the edges of the Bowl. Everyone around their table was conscious of the dangers the weather presented. Thread would be all but invisible; silver against grey. The patch that you didn’t spot in time might be dead. Or might not.

He forced a smile. ‘My first Fall as Wingsecond. Aren’t I the lucky one?’

F’drun had got out of it, citing Ryth’s still-healing injury as a reason. R’feem hadn’t pushed the matter. ‘I’d rather not have him at all than unwilling. If he tries to make the same excuse next time, I’ll get the dragon healers to check Ryth, though.’

D’gar couldn’t help but wonder at his motives. All the bronzes were edgy, sensing Prideth’s nearness to rising. If F’drun intended to let Ryth chase her, he’d have the edge over those dragons who’d flown Fall. Not that he should, of course, but D’gar guessed that F’drun wouldn’t be concerned about what was proper. Doubtless Kylara would encourage him, enjoying the notoriety.

Due to her dragon’s state, she wouldn’t be flying today either. Several more of the young dragons had been co-opted to fill in the gaps in the Queens’ Wing. Bit of a misnomer really. Might as well just call it the Greens’ Wing, as there were more of that colour than any other in its ranks, Rioth and H’rek included. At least with Kylara out of it, there’d be less reason to worry about him. Of course, he still had to dodge Thread but somehow that seemed less risky. At least the stuff was mindless and therefore indiscriminate.

R’feem laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m off for the briefing. We should be getting up-to-date weather reports soon. Might not be so bad over Bitra, eh?’ He was as aware as any of the Fort riders the last time they’d ridden Fall in conditions similar to this. That dreadful day.

D’gar gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. ‘Maybe.’ He wasn’t counting on it, though. Today, it wasn’t just himself and Herebeth he needed to look out for. R’feem, B’lin and he had already decided which blues and greens would be taking the first shift. Technically speaking, the Fall was short enough not to need a swap out, but with conditions up there so bad, it was sensible to hold some pairs in reserve. Just in case.

He forced himself to eat another mouthful of porridge. It sat uneasily in his stomach. About the only good thing that could be said regarding today’s Fall was that it was due to begin around mid-morning, so there wouldn’t be too much waiting around beforehand. With a heavy sigh, he gave up on the rest of the porridge and took the bowl back to the wash-up area. While there, he poured a refill of klah with plenty of sweetener. It would keep him alert and provide some energy, at least.

On his way back he caught a snatch of what M’rell was saying to G’reden. ‘D’gar looks ill. Think he’ll throw up today?’ He pretended he’d not heard. M’rell was still in a strange mood. It was best to leave him rather than provoking a response. After Fall, though, he’d try to have a private word with him. He’d been a good friend over the Turns and it would be silly to fall out over something so trivial as resentment over his promotion. M’rell had been one of those who made sure he wasn’t left alone after S’brin’s death. D’gar would never forget how much he owed the man. No, M’rell would come round, once he got used to the situation and so long as he was treated carefully.

B’lin was all amiability this morning. Now D’gar had got to know him better, he realised that very little bothered the man. He was steady and reliable; the archetypal brown rider, in fact. ‘I bet you don’t get weather like this in Igen,’ he said as he took his seat again.

‘No. Although we can get some pretty violent thunderstorms at times. Sandstorms, too. Mind you, we never needed to worry about Thread when it fell over the desert. Nothing down there for it to eat.’

‘Well, watch it today. This kind of weather is the worst.’

‘At least it’s not windy.’

‘There is that.’ B’lin had no business being so cheery. To top it all, he was scoffing eggs on toast as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

‘Not hungry this morning?’ he asked between mouthfuls.

D’gar made a face. ‘I can never eat much before Fall.’ He glared at J’rud as he spoke, daring him to elaborate.

‘My old Wingleader used to get like that, too.’

‘Glad it’s not just me.’ The warmth of the klah helped to settle his stomach.

One of the Igen riders came over to speak with B’lin. He had to try and remember all their names now that he was Wingsecond. Although, confound it, he could remember the dragon’s name, it was just the man’s that eluded him. N’bren, that was it. Lanralth and N’bren. Anyway, it wasn’t Fall related; something to do with needing to go back to Igen to visit a sick relative, so he tuned out of what they were saying and let his gaze wander around the dining hall. Interesting that this morning the Benden Wings were cheerful and noisy as they ate, whereas at the tables occupied by the five Weyrs riders, folk were generally subdued. We know what a Fall like this means, he thought. They don’t, not yet. They’d had a couple of easy ones under their belts with only a few injuries and no fatalities, apart from C’don and Choliarth (who they probably didn’t count as the pair weren’t from Benden). It was inevitable that they’d be starting to feel slightly complacent. Plus, the bronze riders would be distracted by their dragons’ anticipation of the impending mating flight. He was sure that R’feem and W’lir would do their best to alert the Benden Wingleaders of the potential dangers, but whether they chose to listen was up to them.

His worry was beginning to filter through to Herebeth. The dragon’s reassuring presence was there in the back of his mind, full of confidence in his own and his rider’s ability.

_Do not concern yourself. We will be safe._

_I know._ Except in some walled-off corner of his mind, he knew that feeling you’d be safe wasn’t enough. Hadn’t he and S’brin convinced themselves they were going to make it through to the end of the last Pass and carry on to live long and uneventful lives? Yes, and look how that had turned out. After S’brin died, he hadn’t cared much if he made it or not, but blind luck and Herebeth’s sound instincts had carried him through. Now, having a reason to live for again, he had become afraid. Not so much of dying, because that would be relatively quick, but of what might happen to H’rek afterwards.

‘You all right?’ B’lin asked, having finished talking with N’bren.

‘Fine. Yes. Just thinking. Wondering what formations we’ll be flying today.’

‘Hmm, yes. Cloud base will be too low for much layering, won’t it? I reckon we’ll be flying reverse vees, maybe half-chevrons, criss-crossing the area. Queens’ Wing below to mop up whatever gets through.’

‘Just above the Holder’s heads. Better watch out they don’t get scorched.’ He forced a laugh. ‘I’d best go and get ready.’

‘Me too. See you in a bit.’

Out in the Bowl, a fine drizzle fell. As Herebeth glided down, tiny vortices of water vapour trailed from the tips of his wings. He shook himself after landing, sending droplets spraying all around.

_Thanks. Just what I needed._

_You will get wet anyway._

_I’d rather start off dry, at least._

H’rek wasn’t up in the weyr; he must be attending his own Wing meeting. D’gar went to fetch his wherhide jacket and trousers which he’d hung in front of the warm air duct. Both were still slightly damp from being out in the rain for a couple of hours the previous afternoon, as he’d expected. Great.

_What was that about starting off dry?_ Herebeth sounded amused.

_This is going to be a damp, depressing Fall. We might as well hope it pours properly. At least then there’ll be less viable Thread._

_I am looking forward to flaming Thread._

_You would. Know what I’m looking forward to? A nice hot bath when it’s all over, with H’rek, in our pool._

_Maybe we could go to the beach again. I enjoyed swimming in the sea_.

_Maybe we can. Might as well take advantage of it, before it got overcrowded. But I’m still having a soak in the pool first._ And possibly more. Much more comfortable than on a beach, with all that gritty sand to contend with.

He pulled on the flying gear, over a shirt and light breeches. At least the warmth of his body would alleviate the clammy chill and by the time he was up in the air he’d be too busy to notice any more. He checked over Herebeth’s straps - also still damp - as he put them on. He’d almost finished when Rioth came in to land beside them, H’rek jumping off even before she’d come to a complete halt.

‘You’re ready early.’

‘Stuff to do. Once R’feem gets out of the Wingleaders meeting we’ll have a better idea of the weather over Bitra and Lemos.’

‘We’ve already had the report. It’s much the same as here, right now, although they think it might clear later.’

‘Oh.’

H’rek must have noticed his tone. ‘It’s going to be bad, isn’t it? Like you said earlier.’

He nodded. ‘Anything hits you, get _between_ right away. It might be drowned, it might not be, so don’t take any chances.’

‘How can you even see Thread in cloud?’

‘You can’t, not really. You get a feel for it after a while; the way the cloud swirls is slightly different. Mind you, you should be well below cloud base.’

‘But you’ll be in it?’

‘Yup. Some of the time.’

‘And you’re worried about me?’

‘It’s my job.’ At least H’rek seemed to have taken his warnings to heart and should be sensibly cautious today. ‘Rioth’s eyes will see better than yours in this. Trust her instincts and you’ll both be fine.’

H’rek took Rioth’s straps off the pegs. ‘Do you think… will there be a lot of injuries today?’

‘I’ll be surprised if there aren’t. Deaths too.’ He noticed H’rek’s wince as he said the word. ‘So, try not to let it distract you too much. Warn the others as well.’

‘I have. They’re not convinced. They think you’re too ready to exaggerate the danger.’

‘Well, hopefully they’ll be right. But it’s best to be prepared for the worst, eh? Now, come here.’ He pulled H’rek close and kissed him. ‘Stay safe.’

‘You too.’

He was reluctant to let go. The fear that he might never hold H’rek again lingered in the back of his mind. Still, there was work to be done and you couldn’t stay in your weyr forever. Herebeth nuzzled Rioth briefly, then they parted and he climbed aboard.

Drizzle still fell as they mustered the Wing. R’feem looked grim as he passed on the weather report. There was always some banter exchanged but most of the riders were quiet and serious this morning. Once the firestone was delivered the sound of dragons’ teeth crushing the rock made it impossible to hear much else. Spare sacks were fastened to straps and some of the men began to mount up while others went through their accustomed pre-Threadfall rituals. D’gar’s stomach churned and he had to leave Herebeth to find a clear piece of ground where he threw up his meagre breakfast. Not a good start.

_Better than in the air,_ Herebeth commented.

_Over you, you mean._

_There is that. Although the rain would soon wash it away._

_I hate all this waiting around._

Herebeth turned his head towards him as he returned and gave a soft, warm whuff of breath. _Thread falls when it will. We can’t make it get here any quicker. But I know how you feel. I would rather be fighting than waiting._

He climbed aboard and fastened the straps to his belt, letting the familiar procedures settle him. It had been confirmed that they’d be flying in half-chevron formation; R’feem stationed in the middle, B’lin and himself at either end of the line. He’d have T’garrin and Belloth to his right, followed by T’rai and Hinarth. Having a brown or bronze flanked by two of the smaller colours was common practice; Herebeth could flame large clumps of Thread in one blast while the nimble blues and greens mopped up anything he couldn’t get to so easily. While they waited for the command to take off, he glanced around the Bowl at the assembling Wings, Ramoth’s golden hide gleaming like sunshine through the grey murk. Three dragons to her left he spotted Rioth’s distinctive green, bright as spring leaves.

_Piroth tells us to form up and stand by._

_Relay that to our section, please._ He watched as the riders acknowledged, then, at R’feem’s signal, they took off as one.

The weather reports had been accurate. The sky over Bitra Hold was as dark and grey as it had been back at the Weyr. They came out of _between_ into a heavy shower. Thread wasn’t yet falling, but if it had been, he knew that not much would be viable in such a downpour. Yet, within a minute, it had eased off to meagre drizzle again.

_Just flame everything,_ he instructed Herebeth. _Otherwise, by the time we’re close enough to tell if it’s dead or not, it’ll be too late._

The dragons took up their fighting formations, skimming in and out of the low cloud.

_Sweep riders report leading edge is falling on schedule._

The poor visibility meant that he had to rely on Herebeth’s senses and glimpses of orange flame ahead to know when Thread was upon them. Then, the steady rhythm of Fall took over. As his eyes accustomed, he became better at picking out the flicker of Thread descending through cloud. Yet still, there were several times he had the heart-pounding sensation of not spotting a clump until it was too close for comfort. Several times, too, there were cries from men and dragons who didn’t dodge _between_ fast enough to avoid a scoring. Glimpses of the Hold and its surrounding pastures emerged through swirling cloud and bands of rain. There was a brief respite when they passed over rocky ground, another when the rain lashed down in sufficient quantity to drown falling Thread, the sodden clumps plummeting far faster than when it was alive and deadly. He was near enough to see one clump slide down T’garrin’s left shoulder and Belloth’s flank. Both blinked _between_ in an instant and D’gar held his breath until they re-emerged, seemingly unhurt.

_Belloth says it was dead. No damage to him or his rider._

The rain eased again and for several minutes the cloud thinned, turning from dark grey to pearlescent white, brighter in the direction of the sun. More live Thread fell, thick and fast. Herebeth’s flame left behind flecks of ash and char, which stuck to D’gar’s wet face as they flew through it. He wiped it away quickly. Water had seeped through the wherhide at his elbows and knees and trickled half way down his back. His shoulders ached already, with Fall not yet half way through, partly from the tension of the fight but also from the remaining bruising. Trust F’drun to pick the right Fall to miss. He imagined F’drun and Kylara, relaxing in her weyr while others fought for their lives in the sky.

_More firestone, please._ He threw a couple of pieces for Herebeth to catch while Belloth and Hinarth took up the slack.

_Ask if anyone’s running low yet._ It was his job now to co-ordinate the deliveries for his section of the Wing. It was probably a bit soon, to be honest, but no harm in asking. Better that than have someone run out. Not every piece of firestone in the sacks reached the dragon’s mouth, after all and the weather conditions made it easier to miss a throw.

Herebeth flamed two large clumps one after the other, then dived to take out a third, smaller piece probably missed by the Wing above them. The rain lashed down as they rode through a denser patch of cloud. He had to shut his eyes against its driving force. Something slick and wet hit his face, stinging instantly. He flinched away. _Thread!_

The freezing cold of _between_ made the rain cease abruptly. He pushed the stuff off with gloved hands, unsure whether it was rain or blood running down his cheek. Didn’t matter, right now. It was gone. They emerged back into comparative warmth, went for another clump that looked mostly dead and seared it to ash, just in case.

_No one needs any more firestone yet,_ Herebeth told him. _Are you all right?_

_Think so. Think it was mostly drowned. Like I am right now._

_Told you we’d get wet today._

He glanced at his glove. It was partly eaten away by the brief contact with Thread. Not entirely drowned, then. Still, his face felt fine, so it can’t have done too much damage.

The cloud parted again, giving a view of treetops at ground level. They must have crossed into Lemos, he realised, recalling the vast acreage of woodland they’d overflown the previous afternoon.

_Piroth says the far edge must be close now and to be ready to turn._ Not that you could actually see where the Fall corridor finished. He peered through the murk ahead, trying to figure out the division. Best to go over slightly rather than miss some. Thread thinned out gradually at the edges rather than just stopping. He waited until they’d flown clear for a count of five then gave the signal to turn, instructing Herebeth to pass it on at the same time. The Wing turned, had a few seconds of clear air, then began flaming again.

The weather had begun to improve as predicted. The cloud base was higher now, the rain no more than a thin drizzle. Almost all the Thread was lethally viable, although the odd clump had been drenched sufficiently on its way through clouds to be dead. With the increase in visibility, two of the Benden Wings moved up to a higher level, as they seemed to prefer.

_Should have passed on that they were about to do that,_ D’gar grumbled to Herebeth as they swept up strands of Thread missed by the manoeuvre.

_Piroth’s rider agrees. He will mention it at the post-Fall meeting. He -_ anything further Herebeth was about to say was overwhelmed by a sudden wash of sadness. The first fatality of this Fall, D’gar thought, hating that he had been proved right. Back at the Weyr, the dragons would keen. Here, there was no time to mourn, or to think about who might be gone.

_Rioth is well,_ Herebeth assured him in the next breath. _But one of her clutchmates is lost._

Not good. _From the Queens’ Wing?_

_No. They were bringing firestone and did not see Thread in time._

Shard it! A moment’s lapse in concentration coupled with poor visibility and sheer bad luck. He wondered how it would affect H’rek. _Tell Rioth to tell H’rek to forget about it. He’s still alive and needs to keep alert. Grief is for later._

_I will tell her now._

D’gar glanced along the line, noting that he could now see five dragons, whereas at the start of Fall he’d only been able to see three. Definitely clearing up, then, making it slightly easier to spot Thread, although the glare of the sun, diffused by the remaining cloud countered that. The air was still damp, although the rain had mostly stopped. He’d started on his second sack of firestone and asked Herebeth to check how the rest of the section were faring. Most were in a similar situation.

_Ask Piroth to request deliveries for our riders. And does he want to swap out any blues or greens?_

They dealt with another few clumps before the answer came back. _Only if they’re tired. We hand over to Telgar Weyr once we reach the next range of hills. Less than an hour now, he says._

_Ask them._ He glanced across to Belloth as the message went along. All of the riders he could see gave him a thumbs up and the few out of sight confirmed they were fine to continue.

D’gar felt tired himself now; his bones aching from the cold, soaked to the skin from the earlier rain. Remembering F’drun’s horror story, he looked quickly at his feet to make sure they were both still there. Yup, even though he could scarcely feel them anymore. He fumbled a couple of throws, his fingers too stiff to grip the firestone properly. Hoped, as you always did, that it didn’t hit anyone on the way down.

Below, the woodland stretched endlessly on. More trees than he’d ever thought to see in one place. Here and there were clearings and churned up earth where forestry crews had felled trees and dragged the logs away. A ground crew’s flamethrowers flared into life. So, some Thread had got through. But some always got through. One hundred per cent mop-up aloft was nigh-on impossible. Herebeth continued to clear a swathe. Now, in the damp air, black, foul-smelling char was everywhere, settling on dragon hide, clothing and exposed skin alike. He swilled out his mouth with water from his flask, spitting it downwind before taking a proper drink.

_Firestone deliveries on the way._

A young brown dragon emerged close at hand, his rider throwing a spare sack across the space between them. _Tell him one’s fine._ The rider signalled he understood, then disappeared. He’d barely secured the sack before Herebeth dived to flame a stray Thread that had detached from a larger clump. _Well spotted,_ he told the dragon, impressed by his stamina as he powered back up to rejoin his place in the formation. Looking ahead he could see tiny specks of colour against the grey sky over the hills. Telgar Weyr’s Wings, waiting to take over for the last part of the Fall. The sight was cheering. Almost there, he told himself, while not allowing his concentration to falter. This was the most dangerous time of all. Too many riders relaxed their vigilance on a change-over.

As if echoing his own thoughts, Herebeth relayed a message from R’feem. _Piroth’s rider reminds us it’s not over yet. Stay alert and keep your positions._

In that last ten minutes; the hills drawing ever closer, the specks resolving themselves into the recognisable outlines of dragons, there came two more shocks of distress. Two more fatalities. Maybe the first triggered the second; they came close enough together for that to be the case.

_Not from our Wing?_ Visibility had improved, but he still couldn’t see all of them.

_No, Benden._ The dragon replied after a short while. _Not Rioth,_ he added.

All he could feel was relief. He didn’t know who had died, but it wasn’t H’rek. It wasn’t one of his wingmates either. It was sad, but you couldn’t dwell too long on it. Not when Thread still fell and there was work to be done.

It wasn’t a totally seamless handover, but any Thread that got through fell onto rock and scree; there was a reason why most transition zones were over mountains or water, after all. They were briefly near enough to wave at the Telgar riders before closing into a tighter formation for the return to Benden Weyr. D’gar glanced down as they emerged over the Bowl. Watery sunlight was piercing the thinning cloud, casting shadows against the dark walls of the caldera. Typical that it should have cleared now, when it didn’t matter anymore. He was tired, soaked and filthy, but at least he - and those he cared about - had survived another Fall.


	16. Troubles and Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is brewing as tensions rise after Threadfall

‘Best get that face seen to, lad.’ R’feem paused on his way around as the riders dismounted and unclipped firestone sacks from fighting straps.

‘Oh.’ He pulled off a glove and felt along his left cheek. It did sting a bit, now that he had time to think about it.

‘And don’t go rubbing char into it. Not if you want to keep your good looks. We’ll meet in two hours, once everyone’s had a chance for a bath and to get into dry clothes.’

_You are scored?_

_Apparently. Not badly though._

Herebeth swung his head around to peer at his face. _No, not badly. But Piroth’s rider is right. You should get it treated. I can drop you at the infirmary._

_No, I’ll walk. You go and get yourself clean._ His fingers, still stiff with cold, fumbled to unfasten the straps. He dragged them off to the side as Herebeth launched himself into the air to join the crush of dragons waiting for a turn in the lake, then made his way across the Bowl.

Walking brought some circulation back to his feet, which was no bad thing. He’d already realised he’d not get seen to right away. There were at least twenty dragons on the flat piece of ground outside the infirmary; some wounded and being treated by the dragon healers, others seemingly unharmed, waiting for their injured riders. Their worry was all too evident in the dull colour of their hides, eyes that whirled yellow with anxiety and the sad droop of wings.

He joined a queue of riders with minor scores; the walking wounded, knowing that they would be low down the list of priority. Toyed, for a moment with going back to his weyr first, then realised he couldn’t without disturbing Herebeth’s bath.

Now that it was over, he began to feel all the bodily niggles his mind had ignored during Fall. Aching shoulders, made worse by the stiff weight of saturated wherhide. Bruises from where the straps had dug in to his legs during Herebeth’s wilder manoeuvres. The hot prickle of life returning to cold toes and the burn of his Threadscored cheek. Not to mention the discomfort of wearing damp clothing. He opened his jacket to let the air circulate in the hope it would begin to dry out his shirt.

‘Wonder how long this is going to take?’ The rider in front of him, a tall, middle-aged man turned to speak. He’d already removed his jacket, revealing a painful looking score along his left forearm and hand.

‘None of us are about to die right now, are we?’ It sounded brusque, put like that. He saw the expression change on the other man’s face; poor sod had only been trying to make conversation after all. ‘What I mean is that we can afford to wait. Some others can’t.’

‘Hmmm. Still sharding hurts, though. Never realised scores would hurt this much.’

D’gar grimaced. ‘I know. When did you get yours?’

‘Right close to the end.’

‘That often happens. Once you know it’s almost over, you relax and… boom.’ He thought again of the two fatalities, so close to the hand-over.

‘What happened to you, then?’

‘A clump hit me in the face. It wasn’t totally drowned.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve had worse, in the past.’

‘The past? Oh. You must be one of those oldtimers.’

‘What?’

‘You’re one of them the Weyrwoman brought forward.’

‘Yes. I’m from Fort Weyr.’ Being called an oldtimer by someone at least twenty Turns his senior sounded odd. He supposed it was shorter to say than ‘four hundred Turn old rider’, yet there was something about the term that sat uneasily; it wasn’t a name they’d asked for or chosen.

They shuffled forward a few steps as the queue moved closer to the tables outside the infirmary, where the minor injuries were being seen to.

‘So, was it like this, back then?

‘Like what? Injuries, you mean?’

Whatever he had been about to say next was forestalled by a green dragon gliding in just over their heads. She backwinged to land on one of the few clear spaces, her rider jumping off before she’d even settled. It all happened so fast, that by the time D’gar recognised the pair, H’rek had already raced inside the infirmary.

‘H’rek!’ he called out, too late to stop him. ‘Er, excuse me,’ he said to the surprised Benden rider before pushing past everyone in the queue, ignoring the mutters of disapproval to follow him through the doorway.

Inside was organised chaos; injured lying on the beds, some on the floor. Healers and their helpers were everywhere; cauterising wounds to stop bleeding, carefully cleaning out deep scores, trying to stop men from thrashing around in pain. It wasn’t so much the sight that brought back all the bad memories, more the smell; blood, burning flesh, vomit and shit. Rushing in to the middle of it felt like he’d walked into a wall and knocked all the air from his lungs. Panic overwhelmed his senses; it was as if he’d suddenly stepped back to the worst moment of his life and that somewhere, here, S’brin was lying dead all over again. He forced the images away and scanned the room for H’rek.

There he was, going from one bed to the next, looking as much in agony as any of the scored riders.

‘H’rek!’ he called again. ‘I’m over here.’ D’gar made his way through as carefully as he could.

Hearing his name, H’rek turned. His expression changed in a moment and he rushed to meet D’gar, pulling them together into a hug.

‘You’re all right!’ He babbled something else, but his voice was breaking up. They embraced among the carnage for what seemed like forever, until a healer moved them aside none too gently. ‘If you’ve no reason to be in here, could you please leave.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry,’ D’gar apologised. ‘Come on.’ He led H’rek back towards the doorway. ‘You don’t need to see all this.’ Even as he said it, he knew it was as much to spare himself from any further trauma.

Outside again, he found an upturned crate, just large enough for both of them to sit. H’rek clung to him with something akin to shock. D’gar held him close and for a while, neither of them spoke. He was glad of the respite. It gave him a chance to bring himself back to the here and now; to let freshly stirred up memories recede to the part of his mind he usually, these days, managed to shut off.

‘I thought… they said you were here. Scored…’

‘A little.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Nothing to worry about, really.’ Most of the queuing riders were looking at them now, letting this small drama distract them as they waited. ‘Did you not ask Rioth to bespeak Herebeth?’

‘I didn’t think of that. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. Honestly.’ There was no point in being angry with him. Concern had suspended his usual good sense, briefly, but he’d remember for another time.

‘It’s just, after losing R’gan like that…’ His voice hitched a bit.

Ah, the first fatality. One of his clutchmates, Herebeth had said. D’gar tried to recall which one R’gan had been.

‘I looked for you, with the rest of the Wing, but you weren’t there.’

‘I know.’ It was partly his own fault for scaring H’rek beforehand with all those gloomy predictions. Never mind they’d been proved right; it was no wonder he’d feared the worst and panicked.

H’rek took a couple of deep breaths and wiped his face with his hand, smearing the trails left by his tears through the dirt.

D’gar smiled and pulled him close again. ‘it’s good to know someone other than Herebeth is worrying about me.’

They stayed sitting there for a while. The queue was moving faster now as more spare hands arrived to help with cleaning and dressing the minor injuries. He’d lost his place, so he might as well wait. Cuddling H’rek wasn’t a bad way to pass the time, anyway.

‘I feel stupid now,’ H’rek sounded calmer and more like his normal self.

‘Don’t. You’ve been through a bad Fall. You’ve lost a friend. If you didn’t get into a state about that, then there’d be something wrong with you.’

‘You don’t though. When your wingmate died in that Fall over Benden, you didn’t go to pieces about it.’

Painfully true. How to even try to explain. ‘I didn’t know him that well.’ Neither had H’rek’s clutchmates and they’d been shaken by C’don and Choliarth’s death. He tried again. ‘I grew up in a Weyr, during a Pass. There were deaths every sevenday. It was just… how it was. Normal.’ Watching the riders getting drunk after Fall, hearing the Weyrleader solemnly reading out the list of names every Turn’s End. By the time he was old enough to stand on the Hatching Sands, he knew exactly what were his own odds of survival if he Impressed.

‘I’d not really thought about that.’

‘Everyone helped out, just like the Lower Caverns folk here are doing now.’

‘Even when you were children?’

He nodded. ’As long as you could carry bandages or a tub of numbweed. They kept us away from the most gruesome ones, where they could.’ Didn’t stop you seeing the badly scored dragons, though or the men with horrific injuries carried inside the infirmary. Or feeling the keen of mourning dragons reverberating through your bones and the pain of their loss in your heart. H’rek had grown up at the end of an Interval, on a farm. It could never be quite the same for him. ‘You’ll get used to this.’

H’rek frowned. ‘Is that a good thing? Treating death in such a matter-of-fact way?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s just how we cope. The dragons have short memories. We don’t have that luxury.’ There were only a few riders waiting now. ‘I’m going to get this seen to, then we can clean up.’

‘All right.’ H’rek joined him in the queue. He still seemed a little subdued.

It only took a short while to get the score properly cleaned and numbed, then Rioth gave them both a lift back to their weyr as Herebeth was still wallowing in the lake. The thought of those icy waters made D’gar shiver. Thankfully, he had a heated pool instead.

‘Glad it wasn’t a longer Fall,’ he said, stripping off his damp clothes. He hung his riding leathers in front of the vent again. ‘These will take days to dry out properly as it is.’

‘Rioth didn’t mind at all. She said I was making a fuss about getting wet.’

‘Dragons, eh?’

D’gar stepped in to the blissfully warm water. ‘Best thing about Threadfall,’ he said, trying to keep the mood light. H’rek needed distraction, to forget about the horrors. Mind you, so did he.

‘What?’ H’rek ducked his head under, then started to lather his hair with a handful of sweetsand.

‘This. Afterwards.’ He floated out to the deeper part of the pool. ‘We’re alive. Unscathed.’

H’rek rinsed out the suds, shaking his hair like a canine as he surfaced. ‘Well, I am,’ he said, giving a quick smile.

‘Maybe I’m getting too old to duck quickly enough?’

‘Yes. Four hundred and twenty-three Turns. Positively ancient.’

D’gar splashed him for that. H’rek splashed back. The pool was large enough that not too much sloshed over the edge. D’gar dived and grabbed H’rek’s legs, pulling him under the water. They both surfaced, laughing.

‘You’ll wash off the numbweed.’

‘Doesn’t matter. It’s done the job. I can’t feel my face any more.’

‘Really?’ He kissed D’gar briefly. ‘Feel that?’

D’gar pretended to think for a moment. ‘Not sure. Maybe you should try it again.’

‘All right.’

This time, the kiss lasted a lot longer. Led on to other things, as often happened when you’d survived another Fall. By the time they’d finished, D’gar wished he could sleep for the rest of the afternoon, rather than having to attend a Wing meeting.

_I suppose there’s no chance of a trip to the ocean?_ Herebeth asked hopefully as he mounted up.

_Maybe, if this meeting doesn’t last too long. Although…_

_You are tired._ He gave a little whuff. _Maybe tomorrow then, as it is a rest day._

_Definitely tomorrow._ Before going in, he gathered up the fighting straps from where he’d abandoned them earlier and draped them over Herebeth’s neck. _Might as well take these back while you’re about it._ If he was really lucky, H’rek might even clean them.

The smell of food wafting across the dining hall reminded him it had been a long time since breakfast. On his way over to their usual table, he picked up a few meatrolls and a mug of klah. He was pleased to see he was far from being the last to arrive. In fact, a good third of the Wing, including R’feem, were conspicuous by their absence.

‘Glad you’re here,’ B’lin said as he took a seat. ‘You may have noticed we’re missing a few riders.’

‘Yes. What’s up? Where’s R’feem?’

‘He asked me to send you over when you arrived. There was a bit of trouble in the baths.’

‘Oh? What happened?’ If it had been urgent, R’feem would have asked Piroth to bespeak Herebeth. So it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

‘Some of our riders had a scrap with some of the Benden folk. I walked in on the end of it.’

D’gar scanned the table, registering who wasn’t there. ’Anyone hurt?’ he asked.

‘A few cuts and bruises at worst. Still, it’s the principle of the thing, isn’t it. Dragonriders don’t fight.’

‘Until they do.’

‘Anyway, they’re trying to find out who started it. I said I’d stay here unless they need me. Not that I really saw anything, just helped to break it up.’

‘Right. Better get over there.’ He took a bite of the meatroll, washed it down with some klah, then strolled over towards the bathing cavern, finishing the rest on the way.

As soon as he walked in, he heard angry voices. But it wasn’t the riders, who were sitting on the benches in various states of undress. Most of them were watching the small group of Wingleaders who were having an argument of their own.

‘It’s outrageous,’ bellowed a tall, heavyset man whose back was to D’gar. ‘Your riders should know better.’

‘They all should.’ R’feem’s voice was barely raised at all. He sounded weary, as if he might have repeated this several times already.

Beside him, W’lir, the Telgar Wingleader nodded in agreement. ‘He’s right. We need to find out what set it off rather than just arguing about who’s right or wrong.’

D’gar paused, unsure if he should interrupt, but R’feem spotted him and beckoned him over.

‘Anything I can do?’ he asked, more to announce his presence than for any other reason. The tall man turned, frowning. D’gar recognised R’gul, the former Weyrleader.

‘You can leave this to bronze riders, Wingsecond,’ R’gul snapped.

Ignoring him, D’gar spoke directly to R’feem. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

‘Yes. Could you speak to our wingriders? Find out their side of the story.’ He turned back to R’gul. ‘Perhaps we should take this to the council room, rather than squabbling in front of the men. I’m sure your own Wingseconds can take statements and report back. If you consider them competent, that is.’

R’gul looked as if he was about to say something else, but T’bor stopped him. ‘Come on. We’re not getting anywhere like this.’

‘And the Weyrleader is as interested as any to find out what’s been going on.’ F’nor stepped forward. D’gar hadn’t noticed him up until then, but somehow wasn’t surprised to see him there. The Weyrleader’s eyes and ears, he thought.

R’gul glared at him, then shrugged off T’bor’s hand from his arm and walked toward the door.

R’feem shook his head sadly, then followed the other bronze riders out.

‘We meet again,’ F’nor smiled. ‘I’ll speak to the Benden riders if you want to take statements from yours.’

‘Fine.’

F’nor started chivvying the ten or so Benden riders to one side. D’gar approached ‘his’ riders. Some of them were from W’lir’s Wing and he’d never had any cause to speak with them before. But all of the five Weyrs riders were lumped together as far as Benden was concerned.

‘Right. What happened, then?’

Several riders started to speak at once. He quietened them down. ‘Maybe one at a time would be easier. M’rell?’

M’rell had been staring at the floor. As he looked up, D’gar noticed he had a cut over his eye that definitely wasn’t a Threadscore. ‘Someone hit me, so I hit them back,’ he said, shortly.

‘And before that? No one starts a fight without good reason.’ He looked at each of them in turn, hoping someone would volunteer something.

‘F’drun does.’ That was T’burrad. He looked unscathed, although he was rubbing his knuckles.

Might have know he’d get involved in a scrap. ‘I don’t see him here, so I’m guessing he’s not got anything to do with this one.’ Pity, really. Would have been good to get something on the bastard. ‘What I meant was does anyone know what started it?’

One of the Telgar riders spoke up. ‘It was them.’ He pointed towards the Benden riders. ‘We were just minding our own business.’

This was like getting blood out of a stone. D’gar glanced over toward F’nor, wondering if he was having better luck. ‘So, what did they do, exactly? Were there comments? Insults? Anything?’

V’chal spoke up. ‘Some of the lads were mucking about a bit. Laughing, splashing, like you do. I think they…’ he gestured toward the other group, ‘took exception to it.’

That made sense. The Benden riders had lost a few colleagues today. They might easily get upset if they thought someone was being disrespectful. ‘You think they might have considered it was in bad taste?’

‘Who knows? People die. Doesn’t mean life stops for everyone else.’ That was K’fol, from Igen.

‘We might have seen it all before, but these folk have only been fighting Thread a couple of sevendays,’ D’gar pointed out. ‘They’re more sensitive about these things.’

‘Might have known you’d take their part,’ M’rell said under his breath, although it was loud enough for D’gar to catch.

Trust M’rell. ’I’m not taking anyone’s part. Just trying to establish what happened, as R’feem asked me to.’ He turned back to V’chal. ‘You said they took exception to it. Was anything said?’

‘There were a few comments. “Shut up you sharding oldtimers,” was one of them.’

That name again. ‘That’s a new one, isn’t it? Only heard it myself today. So, I’m guessing there might have been some heated words before it turned violent?’

There were a few nods. ‘Yeah. Someone told them to shut up themselves,’ G’reden said. His voice sounded a bit thick, and his nose had obviously been bleeding.

‘Then one of them said, “Why don’t you all go _between_ and stay there.” I didn’t take too kindly to that,’ K’fol said. ‘After what happened to C’don and all.’

D’gar nodded. ‘I can see that. Anyone know who started the fight?’ He guessed that no one would want to tell on their colleagues. Plus, with the number of riders involved, it would be hard to say exactly who had struck the first blow. If he’d been there himself and someone had tackled him, he’d undoubtedly have hit back. It was human nature. He gave them a few moments, but no one came up with anything further. ‘Well, thanks for all your help. You might as well get dressed now and go to the dining hall. I expect we’ll still be having a Wing meeting once this is sorted out.’

‘Yes, Wingsecond, sir,’ M’rell gave a mocking salute.

There was no need for that. ‘I’m only doing my job, M’rell.’ He still needed to have that private word with M’rell; sort things out between them. There just hadn’t been time.

As they got themselves ready, he noticed that F’nor had just finished with the Benden riders, so he waited by the door. ‘I wasn’t sure how to get to the council room, so I thought I’d tag along with you if that’s all right.’

‘Fine. The easiest access from here is through the Senior Queen’s Weyr.’ He led the way. ‘Did you get much out of your riders?’

‘Not really. No one wants to admit having started it.’

‘Same with ours. They said your lot were making fun of the deaths today.’

Was it worth trying to explain to F’nor? He seemed an intelligent man. ‘It’s not quite like that. I’ll admit we have a different attitude towards fatalities, but that’s what comes of living through a Pass as long as we all have. It’s not meant to be disrespectful, it’s just how we deal with it.’

‘Pity it happened today, really. All the bronzes are on edge; so are their riders.’

‘Prideth?’

‘Yes. We’re expecting her to rise tomorrow. She was looking quite bright earlier. Who’s that bronze rider Kylara’s been hanging around with?’

‘F’drun from High Reaches. The one who tried to drown me, remember?’

‘Ah. They’re probably well matched, then. She’s a temper on her, too. I hope he doesn’t let his dragon chase Prideth, though.’

‘I’d not put it past him.’ They climbed the steps up to the weyr. ‘Mind you, chasing’s one thing, catching’s another.’

‘True.’ They climbed another set of internal stairs, pausing in the doorway. It was an impressive room, although smaller and less ornate than its counterpart at Fort Weyr. All of the Benden Wingleaders were seated around a long table, together with R’feem and W’lir.

‘Come in,’ said the Weyrleader.

D’gar wondered if he’d leave them standing, but he gestured towards a couple of empty seats.

‘F’nor. Would you like to report, please.’

F’nor gave his version of events. The Benden riders had found the excessive laughter and high jinks offensive. ‘There were some nasty comments, too, regarding our ability to fight Thread. Things escalated from there. No one could - or would - say who hit whom first.’

‘I knew we shouldn’t have brought them here.’ That was R’gul again. ‘And if they don’t know how to behave with decorum, we should send them back where they came from.’

F’lar gave a slight smile. ‘Four hundred Turns back, eh R’gul?’

‘You know what I mean,’ the other man said irritably. ‘Back to their own Weyrs. Where that sort of behaviour seems to be encouraged, from what we’ve already seen. Dragons fighting, people being half-drowned - ‘

R’feem interrupted. ‘I explained before that’s not acceptable behaviour in any Weyr. And I’ve dealt with the culprit.’

‘Yes. Can we keep to the matter in question, please.’ F’lar called them back to order. ‘Anything else, F’nor?’

‘That’s about it. Insults followed by a brawl. No one’s badly hurt.’

The Weyrleader fixed his amber gaze on D’gar. ‘So, what did your riders have to say for themselves?’

‘Much the same. They admitted they were laughing and fooling around to start with. I’ve just been telling F’nor they didn’t mean to offend anyone. It’s how we deal with it. Deaths, I mean. R’feem or W’lir can back me up on that, I’m sure.’

The two Wingleaders nodded in agreement. ‘We’d expect to lose a couple of pairs most Falls,’ W’lir said. ‘Probably the same at Fort, or any Weyr for that matter. Conditions today were bad. It was sheer luck we didn’t end up with more than three deaths.’

It was good he said ‘we’, rather than ‘you’, D’gar thought. Made it seem more like they were all on the same side. Which, lets face it, they were. The enemy was Thread, not folk who happened to come from another Weyr and another age. ‘They told me there were some insults from the Benden riders, so of course they shouted back. One of the comments hit a bit close to home for the men from Igen. It was after that it turned nasty.’

‘But no one admitted starting the fight?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well, thank you both.’

F’nor stood. This was obviously their cue to leave. R’feem got up too and caught his arm. ‘Don’t know how long this is going to go on,’ he said quietly. ‘Just make sure no one drinks too much before I get there.’

‘Of course.’ He followed F’nor out of the room. The Wingsecond had paused in the Queen’s Weyr, reading something that had been left out on the desk. ‘They’ll be in there for hours,’ he said. ‘R’gul will disagree with whatever F’lar says just on principle. S’lel will fall asleep and have to have everything repeated to him. S’lan will agree with whoever made the last point, then change his mind when someone else says something different. In the end, I expect they’ll settle on some punishment duties for the men involved plus a warning to modify their behaviour.’

‘Weyr politics,’ D’gar sighed. ‘You’ll be glad to know that’s the same everywhere.’ He glanced down at the hide. ‘Are these the famous Threadfall charts?’

‘Yes. F’lar worked it all out from old records. Took him days. They’ve been pretty accurate so far. Not the way you folk did it, from what I’ve heard.’

‘No. But by the time I Impressed it was near the end of the Pass. Thread had been falling for so long, every Weyr knew the patterns by heart. And of course, we only needed to know what was falling in our own areas. If you’d been trying to cover the whole of Pern, alone, something like this would be essential.’

F’nor traced a finger over the toe of Nerat. ‘Could we have managed, do you think? Be honest.’

‘How many men and dragons are out of action from the last few Falls? How many more would there be if you were riding every single Fall over the northern continent?’ D’gar shook his head. ‘Even if you’d sent more clutches back in time to mature, you’d have been fighting a losing battle. There’s a good reason the ancients established six Weyrs.’

‘That’s what we thought. It’s why Lessa took that risk, to go back and fetch you all.’ He paused before continuing. ‘Tell me, are you glad you came forward?’

‘From my own point of view, yes. I’d not have met H’rek otherwise. And obviously, we were all needed here, for the sake of Pern.’

‘But… I sense there is a but, somewhere in there.’

He was perceptive. ’Pern’s not the same any more. Times have changed. Some of the things I’ve seen myself or heard about in this last few sevendays have left me feeling… adrift. And I’m young. I’m not sure how some of the older ones will cope. If they even can, or want to.’

‘So, you think there might be more problems ahead?’

‘I hope I’m wrong, but yes. I reckon there will be.’


	17. Prideth Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prideth rises to mate.

He was running into the infirmary, trying to get through all the people crowding around the entrance. Pushing them aside. There were angry protests as he elbowed them out of the way, but he ignored them. There was no time to waste.

Suddenly he slipped, losing his balance. He fell heavily to the floor, realising as he did that it was slick with blood. He struggled to get back to his feet, but kept falling. A lake of blood now lapped all around him. Pale hands reached up from the ground, dragging him further down. There was the taste of iron in his mouth, the sensation of drowning, then -

H’rek shook him gently. ‘Are you all right?’

D’gar took a gasp of air. Already, the images were fading. All that remained was a sense of urgency and the feeling of failure. ‘I didn’t get there in time,’ he said, still hazy with sleep.

‘What?’

He shook off the last vestiges of the dream. It had been a dream, then. He must have woken H’rek. ‘Sorry, I… Did I wake you up?’

‘You were thrashing around and muttering, so, yes.’ H’rek sounded slightly irritable, as everyone did when they were pulled from deep slumber.

‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘It was a bad dream.’ He’d not had one so vivid since he came to Benden, he realised. The events of the previous day must have triggered it.

‘What was it about?’

It was hard to remember, exactly. ‘Blood. Death. The usual stuff.’

‘Usual?’

‘I used to get them all the time.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not really.’

‘My auntie always said that if you tell someone about a bad dream, it loses its power.’ H’rek pulled back the furs. ‘I’ll go and get you some water.’

‘Thanks.’ He heard H’rek’s bare feet pattering across the floor, the easy breathing of sleeping dragons just the other side of the curtain. This was reality, not the nightmare place of his dream. And yet, he felt if he dropped back into sleep too soon, he’d be back there again. That was the normal pattern, anyway.

H’rek returned with a cup of cool water. He took a drink, staring off into the semi-darkness.

‘Do you feel like telling me about it now?’

H’rek was being persistent. Probably didn’t want to get rudely awakened again and who could blame him for that. ‘It’s not your problem,’ D’gar said.

‘Of course it is. We’re here for each other. I care about you.’

He had a point, there. ‘I’ve never told anyone before.’

‘Perhaps you should, then. So, blood, death. The usual stuff…’

He had another sip of water, then without thinking about it too deeply, found a place to start. ’It’s the same dream I always have,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to get into the infirmary, but everyone’s getting in the way. There’s always a big pool of blood. This time I was drowning in it, I think.’

‘Sounds horrible.’ H’rek put an arm round his shoulders. ‘It’s probably because of what happened yesterday. And F’drun trying to drown you. Your mind gets everything scrambled up in dreams.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I know what it’s about.’ He’d not told H’rek much, really, trying to keep the worst from him. ‘Remember you asked about my weyrmate; what happened to him?’

‘Yes. You said he was dead. You didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘I still don’t, really but that’s what the dream’s about, you see.’ He shut his eyes briefly as his mind dredged up the memories he kept locked away most of the time. ‘It was a bad Fall; worse than the one we just had. Six deaths, lots of injuries. There were a few hit in our Wing. I was blanking it out, trying to concentrate.’ Trying to stay alive, same as everyone else. ’S’brin was over on the other leg of the vee. I couldn’t see him; couldn’t see more than about three dragons away, with all the cloud. About three-quarters of the way through Herebeth said Zemianth had gone back to the Weyr. I thought they’d been swapped out, you know?’

H’rek nodded, encouraging him to continue.

‘Only, once it was over, I knew something wasn’t right. That’s when Herebeth told me Zemianth had gone _between_. I still didn’t know if S’brin was alive - dragonless - or if… well.’ He had to stop and take a deep breath.

‘All right?’ H’rek rubbed his back gently.

D’gar suddenly realised that his self-indulgence might be upsetting H’rek. ‘I shouldn’t go on like this. You lost someone in Fall as well.’

‘Yes, but not like you did. R’gan was one of my clutchmates, not really a friend. S’brin was your weyrmate. There’s a world of difference. And you’ve been haunted by this for a while, haven’t you?'

D’gar sipped the water again. ‘Yes.’ The dreams were the worst, but every now and then images would flash into his waking mind too, as clear and sharp as if they had just happened.

‘Go on, then.’

’The infirmary was packed. Noisy. That smell. I couldn’t find him, at first. I was going from bed to bed, getting more and more frantic.’ Just as H’rek had done after the last Fall. ‘I found him on the floor.’ He could still see the scene in all its gory impact. ‘Once they knew they couldn’t save him, they’d just left him there and moved on. There was… blood everywhere.’ It had been unreal at first. Although the evidence was lying in front of him, he’d struggled to make sense of it. How could S’brin, who’d been full of life just that morning, have gone? ‘We’d been so certain we were going to be the lucky ones. We were going to survive to the end, grow old happily. It seemed… impossible. Yet there he was. Just… not there anymore.’ He stopped. Tears were welling up. He’d not cried, back then. Just felt numb.

‘I think I know what you mean. I didn’t really get on with R’gan, but it’s hard to believe I won’t ever see him again.’

D’gar wiped his face. H’rek had obviously been shaken by some of the sights he’d seen in the infirmary. There was no need to give him nightmares as well by going into any more detail. ‘Still, he’s the first one of your clutchmates to die. I can remember what that was like.’

‘You’ve seen a lot worse, though. I’m starting to understand why people think you folk are callous. It’s the only way you can deal with it, isn’t it? Keep it at a distance. Make light of things.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He often thought that when he’d dropped S’brin’s body _between_ he’d left a part of himself there, too. And brought back a portion of that endless, cold blackness to lodge in his heart. Except H’rek had gone a little way towards thawing it.

‘Do you want to talk anymore?’

‘Not right now. I think I’ll be all right.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘We both need to get some sleep. It’s almost certain Prideth is going to rise sometime today, so best get all the rest we can before the Weyr goes crazy.’

He didn’t dream again; at least, nothing that he remembered. Whether that was because he’d finally talked about it, or because H’rek had been there to listen and offer sympathy, he wasn’t sure.

H’rek was still enjoying the novelty of being able to have hot drinks delivered straight to their weyr and ordered two mugs of klah, which they drank in bed.

‘Shall I get some breakfast sent up as well?’ he asked.

‘You can if you want. I’d best go down and eat with the Wing, though.’ F’nor had been right that it would take a long while to come to a decision on how to deal with the brawl. R’feem hadn’t returned for some time and when he told the riders involved they’d be bagging up firestone for the next sevenday, there had been a few groans. Then he’d added that they had also been banned from leaving the Weyr on non-essential trips for a month. The same conditions had been imposed on the Benden riders but in their case, it would just mean missing out on a couple of Gathers. For anyone who had transferred from another Weyr it meant they would be unable to visit friends and relatives on their rest days too.

He fetched some food and went to join R’feem and B’lin. ‘How’s things?’

‘As expected. Plenty of sore heads this morning.’ R’feem said. He leaned closer and added quietly, ‘One or two of them haven’t taken well to being confined to the Weyr. Knew that was going to cause resentment.’

‘Their fault for fighting,’ B’lin said.

D’gar felt he needed to defend their actions. ‘If you or I had been there and something had started up, we’d have been just as likely to get involved.’

‘We weren’t though.’ he replied, through a mouthful of toast. ‘And not everyone in the baths joined in, so the ones who did have only themselves to blame.’

‘Least of our problems today,’ R’feem said. ‘Prideth’s still sleeping, but she’ll most likely rise when she wakes up. A couple of our greens look like they might be triggered into rising early too.’

That was to be expected. ‘Who?’

‘Zurinth and Greth.’

‘Great. Still, it’s two more days before the next Fall. They should be recovered by then.’ Although the mass mating flights that followed a gold’s rising often caused more injuries than were usual, due simply to the numbers taking part.

R’feem made a face. ’Some of our blues and browns will probably give chase as well.’

‘Ondiath is definitely interested,’ B’lin said. ‘Not going to be able to keep him out of this one, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll be off to Fort as soon as I’ve finished here. Piroth won’t be happy, but there it is. V’vil’s coming with me as he’s not welcome back at High Reaches.’

Talk of High Reaches reminded D’gar of the other bronze rider who shouldn’t be staying around. ‘What about F’drun?’

‘He’s my next job after breakfast.’ R’feem looked grim. ‘I see he’s not shown his face down here again.’

‘He’ll be in her weyr.’ B’lin shook his head. ‘Ryth was lying next to Prideth last time I looked.’

D’gar wondered if R’feem would be able to force F’drun to take Ryth away. He’d give anything to be a fly on the wall and hear that conversation. Come to think of it, he could be, if he knew which service shaft went from the kitchen to Kylara’s weyr. It wouldn’t be proper, exactly, but then neither was what F’drun presumably intended to do.

As it happened, he didn’t need to. By the time he’d cleared away his breakfast bowls, both F’drun and Kylara herself walked in to the dining hall. Kylara had a certain set to her face that made D’gar think she was looking for a fight and that whatever was going to be said would be done in front of an audience. H’rek had told him often enough how much she liked to be the centre of attention.

R’feem didn’t look at all happy. He preferred to have words in private, when it was necessary. He stood and made his way over to the pair.

‘This should be fun,’ B’lin hissed in D’gar’s ear. ‘Sometimes I’m glad not to be a bronze rider.’

Indeed, everyone in the dining hall - riders and weyrfolk alike - had turned in that direction, eager to see what might happen. D’gar felt sorry for R’feem. He couldn’t hear the first words R’feem spoke - the Wingleader was still attempting to be discreet and kept his voice low - but Kylara’s reply carried loud and clear through the cavern.

‘I don’t take orders from anyone, bronze rider. Prideth has become fond of Ryth and I’m not going to deny my dragon her choice of who gets to chase her.’

Beside her, F’drun looked smug. There was no doubt that the pair of them made a striking couple. Kylara was wearing red today, her dress tight and clinging, her blond hair falling in loose waves.

R’feem changed tactic and addressed his next remarks to F’drun. ‘You’ve the Turns and experience to know this isn’t proper behaviour. Benden haven’t announced an open flight, so none but Benden bronzes should be taking part.’

F’drun kept that smug expression on his face. ‘As the weyrwoman has just stated, if her dragon favours another bronze, then who are we to deny her. Besides, she’s only a junior queen.’

It was a fair point, although D’gar doubted Benden wanted their breeding lines sullied. Personally, he didn’t think Ryth stood much chance, but that wasn’t the issue. Mating flights weren’t always won by the largest dragon - Herebeth had proved that - and Prideth had the right to choose her mate. But it wasn’t just about the dragons, even though Kylara and F’drun were using that argument in support of their actions. If Ryth did catch Prideth, then although F’drun wouldn’t have any official change of status, the support of even a junior weyrwoman would lend him a certain degree of authority. It would certainly stir things up, which was obviously the intention of both parties. Even from this distance, D’gar could see a dangerous glint in Kylara’s eye. She was loving this.

‘Don’t think he’s going to stand down, do you?’ B’lin commented.

‘No. I doubt it.’ After all, F’drun had nothing to lose. They wouldn’t have him back at High Reaches - D’gar realised he should probably try to find out the exact reasons for that - and he’d lost his position in the Wing.

‘I can’t force you to leave, it’s true…’ R’feem began, but before he could complete whatever he had been about to say, the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman arrived. There was a collective drawing of breath from everyone in the dining hall as they waited to see how this was going to play out. Everyone knew there was no love lost between Lessa and Kylara.

The Weyrwoman radiated annoyance as she confronted Kylara, although she didn’t raise her voice. However, the dining hall had fallen so silent everyone could hear her words.

‘What’s this I’ve been hearing, Kylara? It’s bad enough that you’ve been dallying openly with this… piece of work, but now I hear you're intending to let his dragon chase Prideth.’ It was evident that the news had been passed along beforehand; probably the reason F’lar and Lessa had turned up when they did.

‘Prideth likes Ryth,’ Kylara said stubbornly, sticking to her line. ‘She should have her choice of bronzes, not just the ones you try and foist on us.’

‘What about T’bor?’

‘What about him? If Orth catches Prideth then I suppose I can just about tolerate bedding him but I know where my own preference lies.’ She smiled nastily and nestled closer to F’drun, linking arms with him.

‘Come on, Kylara. Be reasonable.’ F’lar sounded impatient. Not really surprising, under the circumstances. Mnementh would be all too aware that Prideth was close to rising. Both the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman needed to be well away before that happened.

‘Reasonable?’ Kylara was trying to sound imperious, but her agitation was showing. She was probably starting to be affected by Prideth’s mating lust too. ‘Was it reasonable to send me away to that dreadful place for four whole Turns?’

‘You know as well as I just why we needed you there,’ Lessa snapped.

‘And Prideth did very well in giving us another good-sized clutch.’ F’lar was clearly trying to be the peacemaker here, while the two women glared at each other.

‘That’s all we are to you, aren’t we? A breeding machine.’ Kylara addressed her next comments directly to Lessa. ‘Don’t you ever consider I have feelings? Needs? Not every woman is as cold as you. I’m surprised F’lar doesn’t look elsewhere - '

Her tirade was broken off as Lessa slapped her face; no mean feat as Kylara was considerably taller. F’lar stepped in to restrain her.

‘That’s just what I’d expect from you. If you can’t win an argument then you resort to violence.’ Kylara’s cheek was already reddening from the blow. ‘You’re upsetting Prideth. She’s close to waking, you know. Don’t think it’ll be long now before she’s blooding her kill.’

‘Come on, Lessa. We have to leave,’ F’lar said. ‘She’s not lying. Mnementh is getting restless.’

‘I know.’ Lessa shook away from him. ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. Either of you.’ She stared pointedly at F’drun before turning her gaze back to Kylara. ‘You’re a disgrace. If I’d known how you’d behave I’d never have let you near Ramoth’s eggs.’

‘But you did,’ Kylara said in a cold voice. ‘And Prideth chose me. Now, excuse me. My dragon needs me.’ She swept them aside, F’drun following in her wake.

F’lar shook his head sadly and spoke quietly to Lessa, before they too left.

There was an air of tension in the dining hall. Not just because of what they’d witnessed. The emotional storm of a queen about to rise was beginning to affect everyone to some extent. Added to the already strong feelings after yesterday’s Fall and the way that had boiled over, D’gar knew they were in for a bumpy ride. Normally, a gold flight lifted the mood of the Weyr. This felt different. Edgy.

‘Not a good start,’ B’lin said. ‘Maybe they should have tackled it before today?’

‘Maybe. Although if F’drun and Kylara want it to happen, it would be hard to stop them. Even if they’d sent him away, she could still call him back when it’s time.’ It wasn’t something that could be easily enforced; like a lot of Weyr customs, mating flight protocol relied on riders having the sense and decency to do the right thing.

‘Going to ruffle some feathers if he catches her, isn’t it? That’ll do wonders for our popularity.’

‘Better hope Ondiath doesn’t catch himself a Benden green later, then.’

‘You know as well as I that’ll be a free-for-all.’ B’lin grimaced. ‘He’ll be lucky to get a look in. Mind you, he’s flown Greth a few times before, so that might count for something. I reckon K’fol would prefer me rather than some stranger as well.’

R’feem came back over to them. ‘I’m going to have to leave now. Look after the Wing. Make sure everyone’s all right. Let me know as soon as the main event's over; Piroth wants to go after a green if he can’t chase a queen.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll try to make sure everyone stays in one piece.’ D’gar watched him leave, then cast an eye over at the table currently occupied by most of the Benden bronze riders. As soon as their dragons started to blood their kills, they’d be off. He remembered that H’rek hadn’t experienced a gold flight yet. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him alone and yet he had just been given the responsibility of the Wing. ‘Er, B’lin? Reckon you could take first watch down here. I’d better be with H’rek when it all starts.’

‘No problem. We’ve all been through this before. We can spare you a while.’

‘Just get Ondiath to tell Herebeth if you need me.’

As he waited out in the Bowl for Herebeth he noticed J’rud, walking around aimlessly and kicking rocks. It was miserable for those green riders whose dragons were set off early in their cycles through the queen dragon’s mating lust. Until the gold was caught, their own dragons were unable to take flight, frustrated and aroused at the same time. He guessed Zurinth was hiding in her weyr, forced into submission by Prideth. There wasn’t much he could do to help. ‘Hopefully she’ll go off soon,’ he offered.

J’rud looked up briefly. ‘I hate it when this happens. Last time, Zurinth strained a wing and I got hit in the face. There’s at least six greens from here that are ready to go and a couple from Telgar and Ista as well, so I’m told. It’s going to be mayhem.’

D’gar didn’t know what to say. The waiting around, worrying about what might happen must be almost as bad as when there was Threadfall late in the day. ‘Maybe you should go and have a drink,’ he suggested.

‘Don’t think so. I’d rather be sober. Drink and dragonlust’s never a good mix.’

‘I suppose so. Let’s hope one of our lot catches her, eh?’

Herebeth was just coming in to land when J’rud caught his arm. ‘You don’t think Herebeth…?’

‘It’s only a couple of sevendays since he flew Rioth.’

‘Of course.’ J’rud’s face fell.

D’gar felt so sorry for him he pulled him into a hug. ‘Try not to worry. Do you want a lift back to your weyr?’

‘No, I think I’ll stay here with the others. Least I’m in the right place, then.’

A bronze dragon swooped down from his weyr ledge at that moment, heading for the feeding grounds. Another followed swiftly after. Ryth emerged from Prideth’s weyr and took off, his powerful wings sending a downdraught over them both as he flew just above their heads. Herebeth hissed, mantling his own wings, still uneasy at the other dragon’s presence.

‘I’d better go. Be back soon.’ D’gar wondered how much of a run Prideth would give her suitors; how long the flight would last. He climbed aboard and Herebeth ferried him back to their weyr. H’rek was standing next to Rioth, watching the spectacle as several huge bronze dragons and a smaller, stockier one made their kills. Their hides shone as weak sunlight broke through the clouds.

D’gar slid down next to him. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

‘Did I just see you with your arms around J’rud?’

Might have known he’d spot that. ‘He’s stressed. When several greens rise together, it can get rough. Both for the dragons and their riders. He and Zurinth got hurt the last time.’ Once again, he was thankful Rioth was well out of this.

‘Ah. And was that Ryth who just flew past?’

‘Right again.’ He summarised what had just happened down in the dining hall.

‘Can’t they do anything about him?’

‘Not really. He’s got quite a bit of competition, though.’

‘I should say. Think there are about seven of them down there. The herdbeasts are going crazy.’

‘Look at it this way. We’ll all be eating well for the next few days. The bronzes and Prideth will leave the carcasses alone once they’ve drained the blood.’

A piercing shriek rent the air. Prideth had emerged from her weyr. She reared up onto her hind legs, tail lashing ferociously. Beside her, Kylara stood with her golden hair gleaming almost as brightly as her dragon’s hide. Prideth called again, drawing all eyes to her. Dragons peered from their own weyrs. Lower Cavern workers poured out to watch from a safe distance as the queen looked this way and that, sniffing the air before spreading her wings wide and springing gracefully into the air. As she passed D’gar felt the unmistakeable shiver of dragonlust; not quite as intense as when your own dragon flew to mate but strong nevertheless.

‘Oh.’ H’rek was obviously feeling the same. ‘Is this what you meant about a gold flight?’

‘Mmm.’ Prideth had reached the feeding grounds, screaming as she scattered the bronzes and plucked a beast from the flock in a single, lethal move. As she sucked the blood from its throat, her colour intensified. Down in the Bowl, the bronze riders had surrounded Kylara, observing her in the same manner that their dragons regarded Prideth; attracted, yet not daring to get too close.

‘She looks so much in control,’ H’rek said, awe in his voice. ‘How can she do that?’

‘Some riders get less caught up in it than others, at least until the chase starts.’

Prideth killed a second beast; the bronzes staying at a good distance. One or two of them flew up to perch in disused weyr openings, watching her with intent. Waves of dragonlust radiated from her, rippling throughout the Weyr, touching everyone. Outside the dining cavern, people were starting to pair off, hurrying away to find a more private spot. D’gar reached for H’rek at the same moment he also decided they needed to get closer. He found himself pressed against Rioth as H’rek kissed him with mad urgency. There was another defiant shriek from Prideth. Although she was at the other end of the Bowl, it seemed to be sounding inside his head, so that he lost all sense of anything apart from want and need and touch. In his mind’s eye he still saw Prideth, glowing as if the sun itself had fallen from the sky, Kylara standing proud and aloof. Then a gleaming array of dragons above the Weyr, gold ascending and bronze in heated pursuit.


	18. Helping Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prideth is caught.

Herebeth nudged him, both mentally and physically. _Ondiath’s rider wonders when you will be returning._

He’d lost track of time, he realised. They hadn’t even got as far as the sleeping chamber, just gone for each other where they’d been standing, amid a couple of bemused dragons. And still the insistent pressure of Prideth’s lust proved that she’d not yet been caught. H’rek leaned against the wall, his eyes shut. D’gar rearranged his clothing and used Herebeth’s shoulder to help support himself.

H’rek opened his eyes. ‘That was wild.’

‘That’s gold flights all over.’ H’rek still seemed slightly dazed. Well, this was yet another first time for him, being Holdbred. ‘I have to go.’

‘Where?’

‘The Wing. I’m needed.’

‘I need you, too.’ H’rek reached out and tried to pull him back down. ‘Can’t we stay here a bit longer?’

It was definitely a temptation. ‘Sorry. I really do have to go.’

‘I’ll come with you, then.’

That mightn’t be a bad idea. It wasn’t fair to leave H’rek alone up here. At least in the dining hall there would be people around to distract him. Maybe even some alcohol if he wanted to numb the sensations that way.

From the ledge, he saw that the Bowl was almost empty. Normally at this time of the morning, there would be workers going about their business, dragons getting ready for patrol flights and the like. The mating flight had disrupted all of that. A few dragons were perched up by the Star Stones and along the rim; blues and browns, waiting for their chance as soon as the queen was caught. The sky was empty too; wherever Prideth had led her suitors, it was out of sight of the Weyr. Just not out of mind, so to speak. She was broadcasting over a wide area; most weyrfolk were inherently sensitive and riders had to be or they’d not have Impressed, but a mating queen flying over a Hold could stimulate even the most stolid of people into inappropriate behaviour. There was a good reason Weyrs were far from human habitation.

‘Come on then.’ He climbed up on Herebeth and offered a hand so that H’rek could get up behind him. H’rek wrapped his arms around D’gar’s waist and started to nuzzle his neck.

_Hang on_ , Herebeth said, before dropping down into an easy glide to the ground.

Inside the dining hall, around twenty or so green riders had taken over a table. Some of them were evidently waiting for their dragons to rise, while others seemed to be there to offer diversion and sympathy. J’rud and K’fol were among them. It was small consolation that this, at last, had forced Benden and the other five Weyrs’ riders to mix. J’rud looked miserable, one or two others had the vacant expressions people got when talking to their dragons and several were talking animatedly to cover their nerves. Most of the Wing were still sitting around the same table where they’d eaten breakfast but there were a few vacant spaces.

‘Where is everyone?’ he asked B’lin.

‘Some of them went off with Lower Cavern workers. Couldn’t exactly force them to stay, could I?’

‘Suppose not.’ He checked where H’rek had got to. Ah, there he was, pouring a mug of klah.

‘You took your time.’

‘Sorry. I, er…’

‘Had things to do?’ B’lin smiled. ‘Well, at least someone’s had some fun.’

‘You’ll get your turn later.’

‘If Ondiath manages to catch anyone.’

‘I thought you said he’d flown Greth before.’ That was always a factor; whatever the circumstances.

‘True. Just don’t like to be over confident, that’s all.’ He sighed. ‘This is a sharding long flight. Prideth will be laying a good-sized clutch, for sure.’

‘I expect T’garrin’s already taking bets on how many eggs she’ll lay.’ D’gar noticed H’rek strolling over to join the other green riders. They’d look after him.

‘Wonder how F’drun’s doing?’

‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough.’ Badly, he hoped. If Ryth flew Prideth, the man would be insufferable; his confidence boosted by the support of the weyrwoman.

_Piroth asks me if the flight is finished yet. I do not think it will be much longer_ , Herebeth mused. _He asks us to send him coordinates as soon as she is caught. Piroth’s rider asks you to make the time of day very specific._

‘What’s up?’ B’lin had noticed him talking to his dragon.

‘It’s R’feem. He wants me to call him back as soon as it’s done.’

‘He won’t have had much time at Fort, will he?’

‘I reckon he’s made plenty of time.’ D’gar had figured out exactly what R’feem was asking for. ‘That’s why he asked me to provide a specific visual.’

‘He knows what Benden Weyr looks like by now, doesn’t he?’ B’lin sounded puzzled.

Did he need it spelling out? Maybe he did. D’gar dropped his voice and leaned closer. ‘I think he’s going to time it. He’s probably spent enough hours at home that he needs to catch up.’

‘That’s a bit risky, isn’t it?’

‘Well, I reckon we’ve all got the idea now. Once you’ve learned a trick like that who wouldn’t be tempted to use it? Anyway, I’ll be just outside.’ He glanced back across the hall. H’rek was chatting with V’chal. That would keep him occupied.

The Bowl was as deserted as before, although a few more dragons had flown up to join their fellows on the rim. D’gar recognised Ondiath, Toth and Jekkoth among them as well as several others with the compact build of dragons who had been hatched in the distant past. He checked the sky, noting the position of the sun, the amount of cloud, the brown watch dragon sitting on his haunches beside the Star Stones. A few green dragons peered out from their weyr ledges, ready to fly. One or two might choose to blood their kills, but given this sort of situation, where they had been waiting so long, most probably wouldn’t bother.

All the dragonlust in the air was giving him a headache. It felt oppressive now, like the pressure of a building thunderstorm. Maybe he should go and grab H’rek again? Maybe they could just duck inside one of the empty weyrs for another quick bit of relief? But R’feem had entrusted him with a job. There’d been plenty of gold flights over the years when duty had meant he’d not been free to indulge. Besides, surely this couldn’t go on much longer?

Then, like a lightning strike, the tension broke. The uncanny silence and stillness of the Weyr changed abruptly to noise and movement; voices, dragons bugling, wing beats in the disturbed air. Somewhere, far above Prideth had allowed herself to be caught.

D’gar checked the sky again, sent the visual to Herebeth to pass on. Counted to three, slowly, before Piroth appeared just above the Bowl. R’feem had timed it perfectly. Piroth descended swiftly, setting down to allow R’feem to slide off. He’d put the bare minimum of safety gear on his dragon, basically just a strap around his neck for him to hang on, which was quickly removed. Piroth launched himself again almost as soon as R’feem stepped away.

Greens were propelling themselves from their weyrs, shrieking as they flew frantically skywards, their suitors already in hot pursuit. Riders streamed out from the dining hall toward the flight weyr. You had to hope someone had had the foresight to throw a few more mattresses inside.

‘Thanks, lad.’ R’feem said quickly, before hurrying off to join the rest.

D’gar took a sip of klah, waiting to see who would emerge from the mouth of Kylara’s weyr, leaning against the rocky wall and affecting a casual slouch, as if he didn’t care in the slightest. The first couple of riders stumbled out. He recognised R’gul and S’lel. Both looked slightly stunned as was often the case with the losers in a mating flight. He guessed they would probably go for the option of getting drunk to compensate for their disappointment and sure enough, both went straight through to the dining hall. There would be skins of wine at the ready and a few Lower Cavern women around who were happy to offer other consolations, if that was what any of the failed riders fancied.

A couple more bronze riders followed slowly, taking pains not to look at or talk to each other. Two of them ducked straight inside the flight cave. Obviously, they were hoping their dragons might catch one of the greens on his way back to the Weyr. The youngest rider of the group showed signs of having been in a scrap; holding a bloodied piece of cloth against his head. That wasn’t out of the ordinary either. When passions were roused, tempers were short too. No one was ever taken to task for anything that happened under such conditions.

‘I wondered where you’d got to.’ H’rek joined him outside. ‘What are you waiting for?’

D’gar nodded toward the queen’s weyr. ‘See who hasn’t won.’

‘They kind of deserve each other, don’t you think? Him and Kylara.’

If it was only as simple as that. ‘Maybe.’

‘Still, it would be tough on T’bor. He really loves her, you know.’

‘Be tough on everyone, if he’s pulled it off. Benden will hate all of us for it and he’ll be…’ He trailed off as he saw more movement inside the mouth of the weyr. All at once, he recognised the figure who walked slowly and unsteadily out from the darkness. F’drun’s shirt was torn. His nose was bleeding. He looked as if he was in pain.

D’gar felt an intense rush of relief, tinged with guilt. It didn’t sit right with his conscience, to be happy at another’s misfortune, even though he knew F’drun would have no such scruples.

Neither did H’rek, obviously. ‘Serve the bastard right,’ he said. ‘Wonder who clobbered him?’

‘It doesn’t matter who. What counts is that he’s lost. Don’t you remember me shoving R’gul out of the way near the end of your flight? And you knocked over one of the blue riders yourself.’

H’rek shook his head. ‘It’s all a bit of a blur.’

‘Well, you were away with Rioth at the time, so that’s not surprising.’ As he talked, he watched F’drun. Without his dragon, he couldn’t slink off to his own weyr and Kylara was - busy - in hers, so he had no alternative but to face folk in the dining hall, or to wait for Ryth outside.

‘How long do you think it’ll be before the greens get caught?’

‘Nowhere near as long as it took with Prideth, thankfully.’

‘The riders weren’t looking forward to it. V’chal was telling me some horror stories about mass mating flights.’

Trust V’chal. ‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about that.’

‘Not this time around. But it could happen, another time, if Rioth’s close to rising.’

‘Well, it could, yes…’ F’drun had decided to stay outside. He slumped down on one of the benches and sat with his head in his hands, looking somehow diminished.

‘V’chal said dragons can get hurt too, when there’s that many involved.’

‘Remind me to strangle V’chal, next time we see him.’

H’rek made a face. ‘He was only telling me how it is. Sometimes you don’t, do you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You keep trying to protect me, like I’m some naive Holder girl.’

‘I don’t.’ Although there was an edge of truth in that. ‘Look, you’re young…’

‘I’m older than you were when you first fought Thread.’

That was true enough. ‘It was different for me. I’m Weyrbred. I grew up with… all this.’

‘And I’ve got to live with it. I’m going to find out all these things one way or another. It’s nice to have a bit of warning.’

A few riders were already filing out of the flight weyr. H’rek looked at them. ‘Is it all over?’

‘Looks like one of them’s got caught already. There were at least eight greens ready to rise by my count.’

H’rek’s eyes flicked toward the riders again. His expression changed as if he’d just realised something. ’You mean everyone’s in there. Together?’

D’gar smiled. ‘Now who’s being Holdbred? Where else do you think they’d go?’

‘That’s a bit… public.’

‘As if they’re going to be caring about that. Anyway, you can talk. You practically pinned me up against your dragon not an hour ago right out on our weyr ledge.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Not much. Anyway, if Rioth was involved, or Herebeth, you or I could be in that cave right now. It’s just something you have to do for your dragon. Most of the riders who end up having sex during a mating flight wouldn’t necessarily choose to do it with that person given the option.’

H’rek looked down at the ground. ‘That happened to me, before. R’gan and I couldn’t even look at each other for a couple of days. It was really embarrassing.’

R’gan. That was one of the bronzes, wasn’t it? And… ‘Wasn’t he the one who died yesterday?’

H’rek nodded briefly.

‘You should have said something.’

‘I did. I told you we didn’t get on. I’m sorry he’s dead, of course. But if I’d been the one who’d gone, I don’t expect he’d have been particularly cut up about it either.’

‘Shells, H’rek, you’re starting to sound like one of us.’ It was his turn to be shocked now.

‘Well, maybe some of your good advice has rubbed off on me.’

A shadow passed over the Bowl. A couple of bronzes were gliding in; unmistakably Benden dragons from their sheer size and huge wingspan. One of them stumbled as he landed on his weyr ledge, the other wasn’t quick enough furling his wings and scraped the rocky wall.

‘Hath and Tuenth,’ H’rek said. ‘They look done in.’

‘It was a long flight. I’m guessing she led them quite a dance.’

‘Will they be all right?’

‘Nothing a day or two’s rest won’t fix. They’ll probably eat a few herdbeasts each once they’re recovered enough to go and hunt. Good job they don’t have to fight Thread for a few more days.’ If they weren’t up to it by then, they’d have to let their Wingseconds take over.

D’gar looked up again, narrowing his eyes against the sun. There were a couple of dark spots visible in the sky; more drop outs from the mating flights, he guessed. As they came closer one resolved into a turquoise-blue dragon who had evidently strained his left wing from the way he was favouring it. ‘Healers will need to take a look at that one,’ he commented to H’rek. They watched as his flight path wavered and he landed heavily next to the lake, sending up a flurry of muddy water.

His rider, one of those who’d just left the flight cave, started running across towards the floundering dragon, who was slipping in the mud as he attempted to get himself onto firmer ground. D’gar tried to make out the second dragon. It was another bronze, but smaller and stockier in build than the two who’d already made it back.

‘It’s Ryth,’ he said, recognising the distinctive pale bronze colour. He was losing height rapidly and only just made it over the rim. D’gar glanced over to F’drun, who got to his feet unsteadily, helpless as his dragon struggled to stay aloft.

H’rek shaded his eyes as he watched. ‘He doesn’t look good. Wonder what’s happened to him?’

‘I can’t see any injuries. He’s probably just exhausted.’

Ryth was trying to emulate the blue to go for a soft landing but he was coming in too fast, overshooting the lake and the marshy ground beyond it. The blue dragon shrieked and ducked away as the stricken bronze just missed him before hitting the ground and skidding a couple of dragon lengths across the scree.

F’drun gave a cry of pain and pushed himself away from the wall. He managed a few paces, before he stumbled and fell.

‘Should we help him?’

‘I’m not sure if he’d appreciate it.’ D’gar watched Ryth trying to raise his head. One of his wings flapped feebly, catching the wind like a sail. ‘Go and find the dragon healers, if someone’s not already done it,’ he told H’rek. He sprinted off in the direction of the infirmary.

F’drun attempted to get to his feet. A couple of Benden riders who were walking out of the dining hall spotted him and went over to see what was wrong. He cursed and hit out as they tried to give him a hand. After a few moments, they walked off, shaking their heads.

D’gar didn’t expect he’d be received any better - a lot worse in all probability - but he wasn’t just going to stand and do nothing when someone’s dragon might be hurt.

‘I thought I told you to piss off.’ F’drun swore, not looking up. ‘I can manage.’

‘You don’t look as if you can.’

Hearing his voice, F’drun raised his head. ‘Oh. Might have known you’d be around to enjoy this. Same goes for you. Piss off and leave me alone.’

‘I could. But it would probably be more useful if I called Herebeth and got him to fly you across to your dragon. Come on now. You don’t want the Benden lot to see you like this.’

F’drun gave a brief nod. D’gar helped him to stand, then guided him back to the bench where he sat down heavily.

_Herebeth. Need you down here now._

In a short while, the brown dragon made a precise landing close by. ‘Can you get on?’ he asked F’drun.

‘I’m not totally helpless.’ He gave D’gar a glare, which he took as a sign that he was feeling more like himself. ‘Get your dragon to drop down and I’ll manage.’

Herebeth’s eyes whirled with a tinge of red. _Why are you helping that man?_

_His dragon is hurt._

_He would not help you._

_I know. But shall we just get this over with? Can you crouch, please?_

Herebeth lowered himself reluctantly, huffing slightly and twitching his tail to express his displeasure as D’gar gave F’drun a leg up so that he managed to grab one of the neck ridges and pull himself up the rest of the way. He groaned slightly as he settled himself. D’gar climbed on quickly and they flew across to the side of the lake.

Close up, it was clear that Ryth had injured a leg with his hard landing. Green ichor oozed from between his talons, some of which appeared broken. His elbow joint looked as if it was twisted too and there were a few scrapes on his hide from sliding across the sharp scree.

‘Dragon healers should be on the way soon.’ D’gar said.

F’drun ignored him and limped over to settle himself next to his dragon, shutting his eyes as his back rested against Ryth’s flank.

Well, he’d not expected any thanks. At least he’d done the right thing, though.

_He will never thank you._ Herebeth said, a little sadly. _Ryth is hurting. He collided with another dragon in mid-air._

More dragons were returning from the various mating flights. As D’gar turned to mount Herebeth, several small groups flew overhead, blues, browns and greens. Thankfully, none seemed harmed and all were flying well. Then a vast shadow crossed the Bowl and he caught a glimpse of golden hide in sunlight, flanked by a dark bronze, flying wing to wing with her. Prideth and her mate. He wasn’t so familiar with the Benden dragons to say for sure, but it looked like Orth. From the vantage point of Herebeth’s neck, he glanced back towards Ryth. F’drun didn’t even look up as the heavy beat of strong wings faded into the distance.

_Come on, then. Let’s get back and see who caught who._

It was some time later that the riders started coming back to join their wing mates. As always, folk drummed on the tables and cheered as each pair made their way into the dining hall. Kylara was still conspicuous by her absence.

‘Orth and Prideth are twining necks in her weyr,’ H’rek told him. ‘Kylara won’t be happy, but Prideth obviously is.’

‘What do you think she’ll do with F’drun now?’

‘Drop him like hot cakes if I know Kylara. He didn’t deliver the goods. She’s unlikely to give him a second chance.’

‘Well, that’s something, anyway.’ R’feem’s Piroth had caught a Benden green. ‘That’s going to put the dragon among the wherries again,’ he whispered into H’rek’s ear. ‘Another one of our dragons catching one of yours.’ R’feem was pouring out klah and chatting in friendly fashion with the rider, who looked a few years older than himself.

‘Well, it goes both ways, doesn’t it? Zurinth got caught by Izaeth. He’s one of Ramoth’s hatching.’

J’rud looked much happier than he had earlier. Both he and Zurinth had come through unscathed and he seemed to be getting on very well with the handsome young rider sitting beside him.

Noticing where his eyes were wandering, H’rek supplied a name. ‘Sh’ran. He was down south with us, of course.’

‘Good looking lad.’

‘I always thought that too,’ H’rek said, with a cheeky grin. ‘Bavi kept trying to pair us off, but…’

‘But what?’

‘I was too shy, back then. Funny how things change.’ He leaned closer. ‘Bavi told me she overheard another discussion about re-establishing Southern. It’s definitely going ahead. Lessa wants Kylara shipped off there before Prideth clutches. Ramoth doesn’t fancy sharing her hatching ground and Lessa just wants rid of Kylara.’

‘You can’t blame her, after that scene we saw this morning.’

‘Bavi also heard it was T’bor who hit F’drun. Apparently, Ryth tried to make a move on Prideth and Orth just barged him aside right into a cliff. So T’bor did the same to him.’

Well, that would explain the injuries then. After being treated and numbed, Ryth had managed to make it as far as one of the ground level weyrs where injured dragons could recuperate without having to fly. D’gar wondered how long he’d be out of action. Two more dragons in R’feem’s Wing had been hurt, although none as badly as Ryth. M’rell sat disconsolately in a corner, drinking steadily. Toth was one of those who had lost out in the mass mating flight.

‘I’m going to go over and try to console M’rell. He’s not had a good day of it.’

‘Right. I’ll see if I can find out any more gossip, shall I?’

D’gar refilled his klah. He walked over to where M’rell had planted himself.

‘What do you want?’

‘To find out how you are. And Toth.’

‘Got a tail across his face. Hurt his eye.’

‘Bad luck.’

M’rell drained his cup and poured more wine. ‘All right for you to say, isn’t it? Your dragon caught a Benden green first time. You got the Wingsecond’s job without even trying.’

‘I nearly drowned,’ he protested. ‘Anyway, I didn’t see you standing up to F’drun.’

‘I’m not stupid enough for that.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ He hadn’t come over to argue. ‘Look, can’t you just accept that I got it fair and square. I know we were both doing the job back in the past but there was only one vacancy this time around.’

M’rell glanced over to B’lin, who had his arm around K’fol. Ondiath had managed to catch Greth again. They both seemed content with that. ‘Pity his dragon didn’t get mashed today. Then there’d have been another.’

‘M’rell! That’s not a kind thing to say.’ He’d obviously had a fair bit to drink. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Maybe I do. Maybe I’m sick of all the favouritism in this Wing.’

‘What? R’feem’s as fair as he’s always been. It’s not like the old days, granted, but we’re coming together pretty well now. He’s had a difficult job.’

‘You always take his side. Sure he’s not your dad? Or maybe there’s something else going on with you two?’

M’rell was just baiting him now. ‘You’re drunk. I’ll talk to you again when you aren’t.’

‘You don’t need to talk to me at all these days. I’m nobody. I can’t do you any favours so you might as well save your breath.’

D’gar got up again. ‘I’ll leave you to drown your sorrows, then.’ He walked slowly back to his usual spot. In a closed environment like a Weyr, friendships and other relationships sometimes became strained. It just seemed to be worse since they came forward and transferred to Benden and he couldn’t think of anything he could do to make it better.


	19. A Visit to High Reaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar takes a trip to High Reaches for information.

Traditionally, the day after a mating flight, everyone took it easy. Today was no exception to the rule. Dragons who had taken part were tired, their riders equally so. The Lower Cavern workers had to catch up on all the tasks that had been put aside during the disruption. Although regular patrols went out as scheduled, they were smaller and stayed out for less time.

‘What if it had been Threadfall today?’ H’rek asked. He and D’gar were sitting out on their ledge, cleaning and mending straps while watching the world go by.

‘Then we’d have had to manage. You’d expect there to be a few more injuries than usual though.’

‘I wonder how Kylara’s feeling?’ he mused. ‘Bet she’s mad that her plans went awry.’

Prideth and her mate were still snuggled together in the entrance to their Weyr, catching the morning sunshine. Neither of their riders had been seen at breakfast, obviously choosing to have refreshments delivered directly to their weyr.

‘Wonder how F’drun’s taking it too?’ He’d not been seen either, but he had a good excuse; staying close to his injured dragon in one of the infirmary weyrs. ‘R’feem’s going over to talk with him later.’

“For all the good that will do.’ H’rek thrust a neck strap under his nose. ‘Do you think I should patch this or cut a new piece?’

‘If I were you, I’d go for new. You could maybe cut this part out,’ he pointed to the area, ‘Use it for repairs elsewhere. Throw the rest into the scrap bin.’

H’rek sighed. ‘They’ll want to know why I need more new hide. We were taught to be thrifty at all times. “Dragonman, avoid excess…”’

‘That’s all to the good, but you don’t want to be relying on weakened straps during Threadfall.’ It was yet another example of the small differences between Benden Weyr and elsewhere. At Fort, he’d have had no problem requisitioning whatever was needed from the stores as and when he wanted it. But Fort had been well-stocked from Turns of regular and generous tithes whereas Benden was only just beginning to receive the amount of supplies they needed as a working Weyr during a Pass.

‘I’ll come with you, if you want. Explain why it’s necessary. Or if a more practical demonstration’s wanted, we could always show what happens if a strap breaks mid-flight. Preferably with the stingy so-and-so on dragon back at the time.’

H’rek laughed. ‘Wouldn’t make you very popular if they had to appoint a new stores master.’

‘No. But better that than you breaking your neck. This place has been too used to making do for too long.’

‘That was down to the previous Weyrleader. Bavi told me.’

‘R’gul. The man who didn’t believe Thread was going to return.’ He’d heard all about that in the infirmary. F’lar had a totally different attitude and leadership style but it was still going to take time to change hidebound ways.

‘I reckon he believes now.’ H’rek turned back to his inspection. ‘Mind you, must be difficult to cope with losing the Weyrleader’s job.’

‘It’s how it goes. Bronze riders know the score.’

They carried on working for a while. ‘I wonder if Ryth ever chased the senior queen at High Reaches?’ H’rek mused. ‘Maybe that’s why the Weyrleader wanted rid of him.’

‘Maybe. I know for a fact that’s why V’vil was sent here. He told me it was because his dragon was close to winning the last mating flight.’

‘You said you were going to go over to High Reaches and look through their records. Perhaps you should do that, while things are quiet around here.’

‘You just want to know the gossip. Greens!’ D’gar rolled his eyes. ‘Gossip and sex. It’s all you’re interested in.’

‘And certain brown riders,’ H’rek growled, lunging for D’gar.

He dodged. H’rek missed and D’gar pinned him to the ground. ‘Oh, really. Well, it’s about time we had a break, don’t you think.’

H’rek smiled up at him. ‘Best idea you’ve had all morning.’

‘Then let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.’

Some time later, D’gar went to join R’feem and B’lin for a bite to eat. H’rek had opted to stay in their weyr and order lunch while he carried on with his repairs.

‘Anything planned for today?’ R’feem asked.

‘I was thinking about going over to High Reaches. We don’t seem to have many records from there and I wanted to try and fill in the gaps.’

‘Keen, aren’t you?’ R’feem raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s supposed to be a rest day.’

‘I like to try and do a good job.’

‘You’re doing well enough. This wouldn’t be about F’drun, would it?’

‘Up to a point,’ D’gar admitted. ‘But it’s also true I don’t have much information about the two who weren’t in his Wing. T’rai and T’burrad.’

‘Depending on how long it takes, you could drop in at Fort as well. Your mother was asking after you when I was there yesterday.’

D’gar groaned. ‘I can imagine.’

‘I reassured her you’d not starved to death yet. She seemed to think they’re not feeding us properly here.’

‘Typical.’ He quickly changed the subject. ‘How’s Ryth?’

‘He won’t be fighting Thread for a few sevendays, that’s for sure. I’ve told F’drun he’s to join us tonight for dinner.’

‘No excuses. No exceptions,’ B’lin added. ‘That was what he said, wasn’t it?’

D’gar nodded. ‘Something like that.’

R’feem looked at them both sternly. ‘I can guess how you both feel, but the man’s got an injured dragon and his pride’s taken a hit as well. Try not to treat him differently than any other member of the Wing.’

D’gar went up to help himself to food. As he’d predicted, there were some tasty cuts of herdbeast on offer. Given Benden Weyr’s thrifty behaviours, no one would let the blooded carcasses go to waste. He filled up a plate, then went over to join the High Reaches riders.

‘Well,’ said V’vil, moving up to give him space to sit. ‘What’s this in aid of?’

‘I’d like to visit your Weyr today, a bit later on.’ It would still be early morning over on the western part of the continent and no one appreciated visitors before breakfast. ‘Wondered if any of you were going for a visit and could introduce me. I need to look up some records.’

T’burrad made a face. ‘I’m barred from leaving the Weyr aren’t I? For fighting the other day.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘I can fly there with you,’ V’vil offered.

That was good. A bronze accompanying him would add some authority, even if V’vil wasn’t the most welcome back at his home Weyr.

T’rai grinned. ‘Going to spend some time with Pilgra, are you?’

‘None of your business.’ V’vil didn’t say it nastily, though. He turned back to D’gar. ‘As it happens, Pilgra is in charge of the archives, so she’ll be the best placed to show you around.’

‘She’s a queen rider?’

‘Just a junior, but she’s a nice lass. Helpful.’

‘Yes, she’s always been willing to help you out.’ T’rai continued baiting him, then ducked as V’vil aimed a good-natured blow at his head. ‘So, are you after some dirt on F’drun, then?’

He might have known that would come up. ‘No. Just need to update our own records. I’ve got to call in at Fort, as well.’

T’rai looked at him as if he didn’t quite believe it. ‘Ask anyone there about him,’ he said. ‘They’ll all say the same.’

‘I remember you told me about his Wingleader getting killed when a flamethrower blew up.’

‘Yes, and that’s not the half of it.’

’T’rai,’ V’vil warned, sounding more serious this time. ‘Don’t go spreading gossip.’

‘It’s not gossip if it actually happened, is it,’ the green rider protested. ‘But all right. I’ll leave it to someone else to fill in the details.’

‘I’ll be happier to read about it in the records. Get the official version.’

T’burrad smiled. ‘You think stuff like that even gets put in the records? Not sharding likely.’

‘Anyway,’ V’vil interrupted. ‘I’ll get Bitath to tell Herebeth when we’re ready to leave, shall I?’

‘Please.’ He picked up his food and went back to the other end of the table. ‘Well, that was interesting. There’s definitely a story there, but no one wants to tell me all of it.’

‘Weyr gossip,’ R’feem said. ‘Take it with a pinch of salt.’

He was just trying the be fair, D’gar knew. ‘Of course.’ But he resolved to ask as many questions as he could while he was at High Reaches. No one got along well with everyone but if you heard the same story from enough different sources, then there had to be some truth in it.

It was well into the afternoon at Benden before they were ready to leave. ‘Wish I could come along. I’ve never been to another Weyr.’ H’rek said.

‘If it wasn’t official Wing business, you’d be more than welcome. Still, tell you what. I can arrange a trip to Fort on our next day off if you’d like it. There might even be a Gather coming up now the weather’s improving.’

‘Really?’ His face lit up. ‘I always wanted to go to one of the big Gathers at Fort, but father wouldn’t allow it as we’d have been away from the farm for too long.’

‘Then we’ll definitely make sure you don’t miss out this Turn.’ He pulled H’rek into a kiss. ‘I probably won’t be back until late. Why don’t you take Rioth to the beach for a swim?’

‘I might. Not so much fun on your own, though.’

‘Well, ask some of the Wing if they want to go too. Or your clutchmates. You can enjoy lying in the sun while I shiver at High Reaches.’

Herebeth and Bitath emerged from _between_ over the mountain range surrounding High Reaches Weyr. The early morning sunshine threw deep shadows between the snow-capped peaks. The air was crisp and cold. Tendrils of smoke and steam rose up from the Weyr’s many vents.

_Been a while since we were out this way,_ he sent to Herebeth. They’d overflown it as part of their weyrling training, learning the coordinates for all the main Weyrs and Holds throughout Pern. High Reaches distinctive feature was the seven rocky spindles surrounding the northern aspect of the Bowl, like a spiky crown.

As they descended, Bitath sent a greeting to the watch dragon, who bugled in reply. They’d barely dismounted from their dragons before a slim woman came over to meet them. Her dark hair was trimmed short; practical for Threadfall. She wore the shoulder knots of a junior weyrwoman over her warm, woollen dress. The Bowl was still in shade and both dragon and human breath was visible in the morning chill.

V’vil looked as if he’d like to hug her, but kept it deliberately more formal. ‘Pilgra, this is D’gar from Fort Weyr. Our Wingsecond at Benden.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ She had a ready smile. ‘What brings you to High Reaches?’

‘My Wingleader has given me the task of keeping our records up to date. I was wondering if I could have a look through your archives?’

‘Well, you can, of course, but you might not be able to find much. Our records didn’t survive four hundred Turns of neglect too well. We think there must have been holdless folk living here while the Weyr was abandoned and they caused quite a lot of damage. I’ve been on salvage duty since we came forward.’

She led the way, talking in a low voice with V’vil as they walked. D’gar noticed men and women employed in various repair and clearance tasks around the Bowl. High Reaches was looking more like a working Weyr than Fort had when he left. He expected that he’d find his home Weyr a good deal tidier now than when he’d left for Benden.

‘This is it.’ Pilgra said. It was immediately noticeable that the records room felt even colder than outdoors and a musty smell of damp caught in D’gar’s throat. ’I’m afraid the heating system isn’t working in here. They’ve not been able to get it fixed yet. Priority is for the weyrs, naturally.’

‘It’s fine.’ He’d definitely be keeping his wherhide jacket on.

‘You’ve had archive training, I take it?’

He nodded. Once the harpers had noticed that he was quick to learn, he’d spent many a day helping out in Fort Weyr’s records room before he’d Impressed Herebeth.

‘Then you’ll appreciate some of them are very fragile. And these over here…’ she gestured to a pile of disintegrating hides, ‘Are best left well alone. Damp and mould have rendered them mostly illegible anyway.’

‘Well, I’ll copy anything I find useful.’ He patted the satchel containing a couple of rolled hides and his writing materials.

‘We’ll leave you to it,’ V’vil said, obviously keen to have some time alone with Pilgra. ‘And bring you some hot klah in a while, all right?’

‘That would be very welcome.’

Once they’d left, he uncovered a few more glow baskets and set to work. Despite four hundred Turns of neglect, the records room had originally been well organised with slates above each niche giving information on what was contained inside. He skipped over hatching, weyrling training and tithes records, before finding several tightly rolled hides containing information on dragons and riders. It was somewhere to start.

As he unrolled one hide after the other, scanning for any familiar names, the cold settled in his bones and the all-pervading odour grew stronger. How could Pilgra bear to spend any more time in here than she had to, he wondered?

By the time he found anything relevant, his fingers were almost numb. He’d already seen from the records F’drun had brought with him to Benden that V’vil had been demoted from Wingsecond while at High Reaches. F’drun had made some disparaging notes about the man’s incompetence. Yet here, in the comments made by B’vret, the previous Wingleader, V’vil was being recommended to lead a Wing of his own. He made a mental note to ask a few questions about that, although whether he’d get any answers was something else. Maybe Pilgra would be more forthcoming? She’d seemed chatty enough earlier.

He copied down the information he needed, then carefully rolled and replaced the hide where he’d found it. He was just starting to skim the next one when Pilgra returned, carrying a tray with some biscuits and a steaming mug of klah. ‘Bet you’re ready for this by now.’

‘Thanks.’

She set it down on a side table, well away from the hides. ‘I can only stand a couple of hours in here at a time before I have to have a break.’

‘Yes, it’s a bit nippy, for sure.’ He picked up the mug and cradled it, allowing the warmth to thaw out his fingers.

‘Still, it’s out of the way of Merika.’

‘Who?’

‘The Weyrwoman. She’s very impatient with us juniors.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘Still, can’t really do much about that.’

‘Oh?’ He left a space for her to continue, if she wanted. It might ease her into talking about some of the things he wanted to find out

‘She never liked me much from the start, but when Segrith’s first clutch was larger than Elyth’s that was the final straw.’

That would figure. A younger queen often laid more eggs than an older one and Pilgra looked to be only in her mid-twenties. ‘How long ago did you Impress?’

‘Nearly four Turns ago. Well, four hundred and four, really. It’s hard to comprehend sometimes, don’t you find? All those Turns we skipped in a single night.’

He nodded agreement. ‘I know. So, how are you settling in to this modern world?’

‘Not too badly, all things considered. I mean, there was the initial shock of finding our Weyr in such a state. And seeing how the Holds have changed.’

‘More land under cultivation? It’s the same around Fort. Lots of trees, too.’

‘Plus many of the smaller Holds around the High Reaches are only just starting to recover.’

Bad harvests and such like, no doubt. Although ‘bad harvests’ was often an excuse to avoid sending the proper quantity of tithes to the Weyr. ‘Tithing problems, eh?’

‘Well, yes. Only they’ve had a really tough time. Didn’t you hear about Fax? I’d have thought you would have done, what with Lessa being the Weyrwoman at Benden. She’s from Ruatha, you know.’

‘I don’t mix in those exalted circles,’ he smiled. ‘I’m just a lowly brown rider. So, what happened at Ruatha?’

‘All Lessa’s family were slaughtered when Fax invaded. Some of the tales I’ve heard would make your blood run cold.’

‘Now you mention it, I did hear about some Lord running six Holds.’

‘Seven,’ she corrected. ‘Ruatha was the last Hold he took. But he started off in High Reaches.’

‘How could one man possibly hope to look after seven Holds in Threadfall?’ When he’d been told the story, he’d found it hard to believe, but H’rek had confirmed it was true.

‘No Thread for four hundred Turns changes the way people think.’ She glanced over to the table. ‘Found what you’re looking for?’

‘More or less, as far as Wing records go.’ This might be the ideal opportunity to ask her what he was really after. It couldn’t do any harm and she could only say no. ‘I was wondering if there was any more information concerning F’drun.’

‘Our delightful bronze rider.’ She made a face. ‘Probably nothing beyond the ordinary Wing records. Not everything gets written down for posterity. And even if it had, it might be somewhere in that lot…’ She gestured toward the mouldering pile of hides.

It was as much as he’d been told before. ‘Oh, well. It was worth a try.’

‘You’ll have heard the rumours, I expect.’

‘Up to a point, although the riders have all been very discreet.’

‘Old habits…’ Pilgra sighed and turned her large, dark brown eyes on him. ‘V’vil thinks you’re a decent sort. He also told me that F’drun picked on you to bully.’

‘Yes, unfortunately. Hence my interest. Know your enemy.’

‘Very wise. I don’t know much about what he got up to before I came to the Weyr. I was Searched from Tillek. But after I Impressed Segrith, he was all charm. I’d heard some nasty things about him, but I thought it was just gossip. He was so kind to me; a young girl, trying to get used to a whole new way of life and with a demanding baby dragon to look after.’

F’drun being kind. It was hard to imagine. Still, it wasn’t out of character for a bronze rider to befriend a junior weyrwoman in the hope it might give him an advantage when her dragon rose to mate. F’drun had done much the same with Kylara, after all. ‘How long did that go on?’

‘Almost a Turn. It was during that time I started to become friends with V’vil. He’s much closer in age to me, after all and he made me laugh. F’drun was… a little bit creepy if I’m honest. He got jealous if he saw me spending time with anyone else; Lower Caverns women and green riders included.’

D’gar wasn’t surprised. F’drun had obviously intended to keep Pilgra to himself and prevent her from making other acquaintances in her new home. ‘He wanted you to become dependent on him?’ he suggested.

‘More or less. Although, I didn’t realise that right away. I came from a small fish hold, you see. I was shy and the Weyr was so large.’ She gave a shrug. ‘Silly of me, I know.’

‘We all make mistakes, especially when we’re young. So, what happened?’

‘V’vil and F’drun were both Wingseconds in Ogren Wing. It was just after Segrith was a Turn old that the accident happened, when their Wingleader was killed.’

‘The exploding flamethrower? Someone mentioned that.’ He was careful not to name anyone.

‘Well, it was the talk of the Weyr. A lot of people didn’t think it was entirely an accident, you know. But Thread was falling and we’d had quite a few fatalities. T’kul just wanted a new Wingleader in place as soon as possible.’

‘And F’drun was older, with more experience, so he seemed the best choice?’ He could see how that might happen.

‘Sort of. Although there was more to it than that.’ She paused briefly as if unsure whether she should say any more, then evidently decided she might as well. ‘The Weyrleader didn’t like V’vil. Bitath had almost caught Merika's Elyth in her last mating flight. T’kul saw him as a threat to his leadership. So he promoted F’drun…’

D’gar heard the sound of boots on the steps an instant before Pilgra did. She turned, guiltily, then when it proved to be V’vil, he noticed that she instantly relaxed.

‘How’s it going?’

‘Not bad. I think I’ve found most of what I was looking for.’ He glanced at Pilgra. ‘We were just having a chat.’

‘Ah.’

‘I was telling him about how F’drun got to be Wingleader.’

‘That old story. You know, I didn’t really want to go to Benden, but it’s been worth it to see that bastard get what he deserves at last. Have you told him why T’kul got rid of F’drun in the end?’

‘I hadn’t got to that part,’ said Pilgra, cautiously.

V’vil perched on the edge of the table and picked up one of the biscuits. ‘I suppose he wasn’t a bad Wingleader as far as fighting Thread went, but that’s not only what it’s about, is it? F’drun liked to have everyone at each other’s throats. While riders were trying to win favour with him by telling tales, or watching their own backs, they weren’t threatening his position. Then there was the bullying. None of us liked it, but the sad fact was that if he was taking it out on some other poor sod, he left you alone.’ He took a bite from the biscuit. ‘They don’t make ‘em as good as this at Benden. Try one.’

D’gar did. The outside was crunchy, with a warm spicy flavour and chewy pieces of dried fruit inside. ’Mmm.’

‘You expect fatalities when you’re fighting Thread, but we had more than most. Greens particularly. He kept them up too long and when dragons are tired, mistakes happen. But we were never at full strength - funnily enough riders always wanted to transfer to other Wings - so he had a ready excuse.’

‘The Weyrleader didn’t ask questions?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I was just a wing rider by then and not privy to any of the discussions between the Weyrleader and his Wingleaders. But it’s part of T’kul’s own policy to move folk around, keep them unsettled. He’s not as downright nasty as F’drun, but he’s getting older and he’s trying to cling on to power. Being a bronze rider at High Reaches can be… difficult.’

‘Merika’s as bad with the queen riders,’ Pilgra put in.

D’gar gave thanks he’d had the good fortune to be born at Fort Weyr. He finished the biscuit and washed it down with the last of the klah.

‘There was this one rider he’d chosen as his victim. S’rul, that was his name.’

D’gar remembered what H’rek had suggested - that there must be some reason behind F’drun’s choices. ‘Did he look anything like me?’

‘Not really. More like your weyrmate. Blond. Bit older than you are, too. He’d been transferred in from Pars Wing. Had a drink problem.’

‘Half of the Weyr has a drink problem,’ Pilgra commented dryly.

’S’rul was worse than most. Still, he’d lost his brother in one Fall and his weyrmate in the next, so it was understandable. He’d have probably got over it if he hadn’t had the misfortune to end up with F’drun as a Wingleader.’

D’gar tried to put himself in the man’s place. If he’d not had R’feem looking out for him after S’brin died; if he’d had to cope with F’drun’s bullying, how would he have managed? Not well, that’s for sure.

‘F’drun was always picking on him. Finding fault, making snide comments. Encouraging him to drink too much, then making fun of him when he fell over or did something stupid. I’m ashamed to say I joined in with the laughter. Like I said, when you were in F’drun’s Wing, you kept your head down and played along with it. Then there was one night - after Threadfall - he got us playing this stupid drinking game. Everyone had too much. S’rul was already further gone than most before we even started, so he lost more times than anyone and had to keep drinking more. A decent Wingleader would have put a stop to it…’ He paused. ‘I should have put a stop to it.’

‘It wasn’t your place,’ Pilgra said.

‘I’m still a bronze rider. I have responsibilities.’ He sighed. ‘But I didn’t do anything. How he got back to his weyr without falling off his dragon is anyone’s guess. It was in the early hours we were all woken by the keening. The dragons knew who’d gone, of course. I was one of the first to get to his weyr. Poor bastard had choked on his own vomit. Died and his dragon gone _between_. A terrible waste.’ He fell silent.

‘I’m sorry,’ D’gar said, at last. He hadn’t even known the man but the story had shaken him. ‘So that’s why T’kul got rid of F’drun?’

Pilgra and V’vil glanced at each other. ‘Not entirely. It was brushed over. “A tragic accident,” they said. F’drun picked on someone else and life went on as normal. But all of us in the Wing, we knew it was his fault.’

‘And that’s when I started to see the other side of him,’ Pilgra said. ‘Two days afterwards, he was making jokes about it. I took him to task. He didn’t understand it at all. “Who cares what happens to greens,” he said.’

‘Which was absurd seeing as Ryth only ever caught greens,’ V’vil gave a short laugh. ‘F’drun was always sending him up after junior queens, but he just didn’t have the stamina for a long flight.’

‘So, what happened with Prideth wasn’t out of the ordinary?’ This was interesting.

‘Not at all. We knew there was no danger he’d catch her. Put some marks on it with the Benden riders, too. It was quite funny to see how worried they were.’

D’gar processed this new information. ‘How many gold flights has he put Ryth to?’

‘Pretty much every one. Segrith’s included. The only time he ever came close was one time when Hana let Linroth gorge and she was too meat-heavy to get far. But even then, he didn’t win.’

‘And thankfully, Ryth dropped out well before Segrith was ready to choose her mate.’ Pilgra flashed a look at V’vil which suggested to D’gar that Bitath was probably the sire of her first clutch. Another reason for his transfer no doubt, if the Weyrwoman disliked him too.

‘Well, that’s all very interesting,’ he said. ‘I appreciate you telling me.’

Pilgra raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s not all, you know. There were several incidents that could be laid at F’drun’s feet during the last few Turns of the Pass. But the one that really clinched it was that ground crew disaster.’

‘Pilgra.’ V’vil’s voice held a warning tone. ‘That’s Weyr business. And it’s recent.’

‘It’s four hundred Turns ago. All of the lad’s family are long since dead themselves.’

‘If it’s Weyr politics, then I’ll understand if you can’t say anything.’ They’d trusted him enough to tell him more than he’d thought to find out, but every Weyr had some secrets they didn’t want spread around.

V’vil and Pilgra looked at each other. At last, V’vil sighed. ‘You’d probably find out anyway. You’re persistent. You ask questions. The long and the short of it is this. Our Wing was on clean up duties, after a Fall over High Reaches Hold. There were some Thread burrows in an orchard. F’drun sent me across with a team to deal with one while he and another couple of riders sorted out the other. Ours was fairly straightforward. They had to do quite a bit of digging for theirs. F’drun had the ground crew doing that, naturally. He wasn’t going to get his own hands dirty. Plus, he always liked to keep a flamethrower handy, rather than letting dragons do the flaming. Think he liked the way it made him look to the Holders, you know?’

D’gar remembered F’drun at Benden, the way he’d dialled that flamethrower to maximum and let loose without warning anyone. Yes, it was perfectly in character for the man.

‘Anyway, a couple of the lads in the ground crew were the Lord Holder’s sons. Youngsters, barely out of their teens. Lord Grondin was a hands-on man himself and didn’t hide behind stone walls when Thread fell. Nor would he allow his sons. Bold lads, the lot of them.’

D’gar nodded agreement. The bravery of ground crews was something he’d always admired. At least in the air, you stood some chance. At least your dragon could go _between_ if you hit a patch of Thread.

‘Of course, I wasn’t there. I didn’t see exactly what happened, just the aftermath,’ V’vil continued. First we knew was all the shouting, the cries of pain. The smell…’ V’vil shut his eyes.

D’gar could imagine all too well what he was seeing in his mind’s eye. Re-living it, exactly as he did his own nightmare scenario.

When he spoke again it was quietly, his voice shaking just a little. ‘They’d been digging too close to the burrow. The ground gave way. Three men fell in. One was the older son, Osren. His brother tried to pull him out, but Thread was eating his legs by then. F’drun knocked him away and turned the flamethrower on the whole lot of them in that hole. By the time we got over there, it was all a charred mess, but you could see… you could tell there’d been people in that whole inferno. And you know the worst of it? It was his sharding fault. F’drun’s. The younger son gave testimony that he’d not sounded out the ground as thoroughly as we’re supposed to. He’d encouraged them to dig around the entrance of the burrow, so he wasn’t kept hanging around too long.’

‘But nothing happened to him?’

V’vil shook his head. ‘By the time the funerals were done and the investigation begun, we’d fought our last Threadfall. F’drun had the Wing taken away from him, but by then it didn’t matter. Then, of course, we came forward, so T’kul took the opportunity to make F’drun someone else’s problem. Sent him to Benden along with the rest of us he didn’t want around.’

After he finished speaking, the cold of the records room seemed to press in more deeply.

‘So, now you know,’ V’vil said. ‘You’ll appreciate why you should be careful. Don’t ever trust him. We certainly don’t.’


	20. Fort Weyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar calls in at Fort Weyr on his way back to Benden.

Herebeth came out of _between_ over the familiar terrain of Fort Weyr; Tooth Crag far below them. Late afternoon sunshine bathed the Weyr in a soft, golden light. By contrast, Benden was lead grey and black rock amid sharp peaks. Fort looked - gentler - beige, pale brown and amber. Home, he thought, as Herebeth circled slowly, seeming to take as much enjoyment as he did in savouring the view. It helped too, to get the cold of between - and before that, the chill of the records room at High Reaches - from his bones. The chill, also, of what he’d been told.

_Let’s hope we never get transferred to High Reaches_ , he told Herebeth.

_It is cold there,_ Herebeth agreed. _And I prefer Benden. Rioth is at Benden._

The Bowl had been cleared of all the unwanted and dangerous greenery that had sprung up during the many Turns of disuse. Piles of silt and debris were piled up next to the lake, which was already beginning to look more as he remembered it from the old days. Dragons sunned themselves on the fire heights and beside the Star Stones a lone blue dragon and his rider were perched on watch duty.

_Shuth sends greetings and tells us we can land,_ Herebeth informed him, banking slightly in the thermals rising above the warmed rock before descending in a spiralling glide towards the landing area. D’gar glanced toward his old weyr, a dark opening in the south-east face of the Bowl. Empty still, of course, waiting for his return, whenever that may be.

_We have a better weyr at Benden._

Herebeth was right, of course. _But this is our home. This is where you hatched._

_That was a very long time ago._

Trust his dragon to be cryptic. Or maybe it was just that Herebeth lived in the here and now, untroubled by human notions of attachment or nostalgia.

_Would Rioth come with us to Fort?_

_I’d hope so._ Once again, he was reminded that coming home, for him, would be to take H’rek from his clutchmates and all that he found familiar. But H’rek had grown up in Southern Boll and Fort’s climate was closer to what he’d been used to. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult?

Herebeth landed, sending up a puff of dust. Spring was well under way here, while Benden was still cold and muddy. The air was warm and had that particular smell he always associated with the place; something herbal combined with freshly brewed klah. Even with his eyes shut, he’d know where he was.

He slid down from Herebeth’s neck ridge, removed his gloves and stuffed them into the top of his satchel. The pleasing warmth wrapped around him like a comfortable old blanket.

_I shall go and join the others on the heights and find out what has been happening._

_You do that._ Herebeth waited until he was clear before powering upwards, churning up more dust in his wake. D’gar walked towards the kitchen entrance, smiling and nodding a greeting to a few familiar faces who had seen him arrive. He was hungry, he realised, despite the biscuits earlier. At Benden, it would be late; well past dinner time by now.

As soon as he stepped inside the kitchen, it felt as if he had gone back in time. Agarra was kneading a huge lump of dough on one of the broad tables, flour up to her elbows. She was so engrossed in her task she didn’t notice him until he was closer and spoke. ‘Mum.’

She looked up, breaking into a broad grin, then stepped away from the table and pulled him into a soft, floury embrace. Her hair smelled like the spiced buns that were served up every lunch time at Fort.

‘Look at you,’ she said, releasing him slightly. ‘Have you been eating properly?’

‘Of course. They do feed us at Benden, you know.’

She scanned him with a mother’s eye. ‘When did you get scored?’

He’d forgotten about his face. ‘Last Fall. It’s nothing really. Doesn’t even hurt now.’

‘You weren’t taking any silly chances again, were you?’

‘No, mum. Look,’ he pointed out his shoulder knots. ‘I’m Wingsecond now. I’ve settled down.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘That’s no bad thing. Now sit yourself down. I’ll be done with this shortly, then we can have a proper chat over a mug of klah.’

He sat on the well-worn bench. The heat of the kitchen soon forced him to remove his jacket. Agarra wiped her hands, then carried on with her task, glancing over at him with a little smile every now and then as if to reassure herself he was actually there and not some figment of her imagination.

For his part, he watched the purposeful work going on all around him. He’d sat in this spot countless times over the Turns. Over to the right, one of the bakers put the finishing touches to the pastry lids of several large pies. A couple of weyrbrats prepared tubers at the sinks, flicking bits of peel at each other when they thought no-one was looking. Drudges were loading plates and bowls onto the wheeled trolleys that they’d be taking through to the dining hall. It was a scene of easy familiarity.

‘There. Done for now. Just needs to rise for a while.’ Agarra placed a cloth over the dough, wiped her floury hands on her apron then made her way over to the klah pot. ‘Shall we go and sit outside?’

He nodded agreement and followed her. She always preferred to be outdoors on her breaks, even when the weather wasn’t as fine as today. When they’d finally settled down in a sunny spot, she took a sip of her klah. ‘What’s it like at Benden, then?’

‘Good. Not the same as being here, of course.’

‘I spoke to R’feem yesterday,’ she went on. ‘He said you were fine. But I never thought you’d be so much… so like your old self again. Not with Threadfall and all.’

‘I’ve… I’ve met someone, mum.’

‘Ah.’ She beamed. ‘That would be the reason, then. How did that happen?’

Thinking about H’rek made him smile. ‘It was the first day we arrived. I was sitting by the hearth and he came over. He thought I looked lonely, he said later. We chatted. I found out his dragon was due to rise and he was scared about it…’

‘He’s younger than you, then?’

‘Nearly five Turns.’

‘And which Weyr did he come from?’

‘Southern.’ He realised she wouldn’t understand the reference. ‘Benden sent a load of young dragons back in time to the southern continent. It was the only way they could think of to increase their numbers ready to meet Thread, before Lessa brought the Weyrs forward.’

‘So, he’s from Benden? Not one of us.’

D’gar was mildly surprised that the whole ‘them and us’ thing was even an issue at Fort. ‘He was born in this time, if that’s what you mean. In Southern Boll.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Not Weyrbred? Is that another one of these modern notions they have at Benden?’

‘What have you been hearing, mum?’

‘Well, all sorts, really. Their dragons are three times the size of ours. The Weyrleader asks for advice from Hold and Craft, rather than other weyrfolk. They don’t let queens fly except to mate. I’ve even heard they allow fights between dragons.’

He could guess where that last one had come from. The rest were simply exaggeration or misinterpretation of facts. He felt he should point that out. ‘The dragons are larger, yes. You saw that for yourself when Ramoth was here.’

She nodded. ‘True,' she agreed reluctantly.

He went on. ’The Weyrleader didn’t have much choice about consulting with Hold and Craft before we arrived. He didn’t have anyone else. And if queens don’t fly, then explain how Ramoth jumped _between_ four hundred Turns.’

‘Well…’

‘And as for dragons fighting, that was Herebeth and Ryth, who’s from High Reaches. Herebeth only did it because he thought I was in danger.’ Best not to tell her too much about that particular incident. ‘They’re not that different from us, really. And where they are it’s mostly through necessity. Pern changed a lot in four hundred Turns without Thread.’

She looked sceptical. ‘Well, I’m not sure as I like it.’ Seeing his expression, she added quickly, ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re happy. But remember where you come from.’

He wasn’t sure if she meant Fort Weyr or the past. ’I do. Only we’re here now. We can’t turn the world back to the way it was.’ It would be harder for her to understand, he supposed. She was older and she hadn’t been anywhere outside of the Weyr to see the changes for herself. ‘Anyway, next time I come over, I’ll bring H’rek too. Then you can find out all about him.’

It seemed to appease her. ‘I’d like that.’

He steered the conversation to safer subjects, such as his promotion and his new weyr. He told her about the day-to-day routine at Benden Weyr, to illustrate the similarities rather than to highlight the differences.

‘No idea as to when you’ll all be coming home?’

‘No, mum. They need to breed quite a few more dragons first. Then those dragons have to mature sufficiently to join the Wings. It’s not going to happen overnight.’ It would be Turns, rather than months, he knew.

‘Well, you try and get back here more often, now you’ve settled down. And while you’re here, you’d best have something to eat.’

He left Fort with another food parcel. Some of those spiced buns, fresh from the oven, a few jars of pickles and a couple of smoked fish. Meat rolls, flavoured with local herbs. He wondered if they’d taste like home for H’rek too. Food in Southern Boll wasn’t so different from Fort, after all and many of those same herbs grew in the vicinity. Herebeth swooped down to fetch him, his hide sun-warmed and eager to share the dragon gossip he’d found out.

They flew higher than usual before going _between_. D’gar worked out that with the time difference it would be well after dark at Benden and most riders would have retired to bed by now. Maybe he could get some of that time back. He’d had a full day and wanted a few hours just to relax, have a meal with friends and tell H’rek what he’d discovered. He sent a visual to Herebeth showing the Weyr in early evening.

_That is not now,_ Herebeth said, sounding slightly confused.

_I know. But can we go to then? We’ve done it before, after all._

Herebeth seemed to consider it for a few moments. _Yes. It is good enough._

_Then let’s do it._

The time _between_ was longer, colder. He felt a brief clutch of panic around his heart just before they emerged into overcast daylight. The air was noticeably chillier than they’d left behind at Fort.

_We did it. Well, you did._

_I checked the weather conditions with Rioth,_ Herebeth admitted. _But it was no more difficult than going_ between _places._

All of a sudden, D’gar felt very tired. All that time spent in the archives, no doubt. Still, nothing a mug of klah wouldn’t cure. He dropped off the food in his weyr first. It was empty; H’rek must be down in the dining hall already. He noticed the newly mended straps hanging from the peg.

_Rioth is feeding. I will drop you off, then join her. I fancy a wherry or two._

Herebeth’s hunger sharpened his own appetite. He’d not had a chance to eat anything more than a quick snack at Fort and the biscuits at High Reaches had been a long time ago. He strolled into the dining hall, noting that Kylara and T’bor were at the top table together with Lessa and F’lar. No sign of F’drun, although the rest of the Wing were in their usual places. H’rek was sitting next to J’rud and the Benden blue rider whose dragon had caught Zurinth, on their usual table. Interesting to see that one aftermath of the mating flight had been to mix up the usual seating arrangements.

‘Move up a bit,’ he said, leaning on H’rek’s shoulder briefly.

H’rek looked up and gave him a quick smile. ’I thought you were going to be late back?’

‘So did I. But look, I’m here for dinner.’ He stifled a yawn.

‘Not bored of the company already?’

‘No, just tired. All that squinting over old records hurts your eyes.’ He sat down between H’rek and the blue rider, wishing he could remember the man’s name. His dragon was called Izaeth; he’d no problem recalling that.

‘Have you met Sh’ran?’ H’rek rescued him.

‘Not exactly. I mean, we’ve obviously seen each other around the place. Just not talked before. So, you were down south as well?’

‘That’s right. Lazing on the beaches. It was a good life. Still, we might be back there again soon.’

‘Really?’ D’gar turned to H’rek. ‘Have you heard anything?’

‘Nothing official. It’s all just rumours right now. But there’s going to be some sort of announcement later. I reckon they’ll be sending working parties to clear the place and make it fit for habitation again.’

Sh’ran looked puzzled. ‘It’s only been a few sevendays since we returned. Not going to need that much clearing, is it?’

Of course. He’d not been back. ‘H’rek took me there. It’s very overgrown. Reckon you’ve all been gone a good few Turns.’

Sh’ran turned to H’rek. ‘You were always on about us being sent back in time, weren’t you? Even before we returned just two days after we left, you’d figured it out.’

‘He’s clever like that.’ D’gar put an arm around H’rek. He felt slightly possessive all of a sudden and wasn’t entirely sure why. Then his stomach grumbled, reminding him why he’d decided to come back early. ‘Anyone know what’s for dinner tonight?’

‘Herdbeast again,’ J’rud said. ‘They’re still getting through those carcasses left behind after the flight.’

That reminded him of the participants. ’I see Kylara’s joined us. She doesn’t look too happy, does she?’ Indeed, she was glaring at Lessa rather pointedly while trying to ignore T’bor, who was attempting to converse with her.

‘That’s because she’ll be going back down south too,’ Sh’ran said. ‘Back into exile.’

‘It’s hardly that, is it, when she can go anywhere she wants on Prideth in an instant. And she’ll be Weyrwoman too, instead of just a junior under Lessa.’ D’gar couldn’t understand what Kylara’s problem was. From what he’d seen of the south during the afternoon he and H’rek had spent there, it wasn’t an unpleasant place to live. He’d rather be sent there, than, for example, High Reaches.

Sh’ran looked amused. ‘You don’t know Kylara very well. She wants a “proper” Weyr. And her own choice of bedmates. Being stuck there with T’bor isn’t her idea of a good time.’

Personally, D’gar thought Kylara just seemed rather spoilt. Thankfully, she wasn’t his problem, though. And with her out of the way, he’d not have any more worries about H’rek flying with the Queens’ Wing.

Just then, J’rud reached across to nudge him. ‘Looks who’s here as well.’

D’gar followed the direction his eyes were pointing and saw F’drun strolling in. He’d certainly recovered most of his composure by the look of him; the usual grim expression fixed on his face as he made his way over to their table. D’gar noticed that F’drun didn’t look toward the top table at all, although Kylara had certainly spotted his arrival. All at once she gave a forced little laugh and snuggled closer to T’bor. He didn’t look at all unhappy for the attention.

R’feem got up and greeted F’drun, then made a space for him to sit down. Well, he’d obviously had a word with the man and was doing his best to make him feel welcome. That was R’feem all over. Yet D’gar’s head was still full of all he’d learned earlier. A tunnel snake was at its most dangerous when cornered and people didn’t change overnight, he thought. F’drun would bear careful watching. He’d need to report back to R’feem anyway; make him aware of just what they were dealing with. It was a pity F’drun couldn’t be shunted off down south, too. Ryth would need time to recover, after all and would be no good to the Wing until he was fully fit again. It might even be worthwhile suggesting that. Yes, getting F’drun out of the way and in enforced proximity to Kylara would be as much as they both deserved.

‘You look like you’re deep in thought?’ H’rek said.

‘Er, yes. I was.’

‘Did you find out anything useful?’

‘A few bits and pieces, yes.’ He certainly wasn’t going to talk about any of it here, in front of the whole Wing. And he didn’t want F’drun to get wind he knew any more about the man’s past. ‘Food’s on the way,’ he said quickly, diverting attention.

Drudges were wheeling out the trolleys and several riders were already on their feet, eager to get the choice cuts. D’gar joined the queue and managed to get a decent sized herdbeast steak with vegetables and fried tubers. By the time he’d returned to the table, the queue snaked half way round the room. H’rek was still sitting down, chatting with Sh’ran.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘I had some meat rolls delivered to the weyr. I can wait until the mad rush is over.’

‘Then you’ll not get anything as good as this.’ He sliced off a juicy piece of meat and held it up on the point of his knife.

H’rek quickly snatched it and stuck it in his mouth. ‘Delicious.’

‘Get off. It’s mine.’ He tried to shield his plate, but H’rek kept sneaking the odd fried tuber off it. ‘Go and get your own. You’d best not do that when we go to Fort to meet my mum. She said she’d love to see you, but she already has a bad opinion of modern riders.’

‘You went to Fort as well as High Reaches? How did you have the time to do all that and get back here…’ H’rek trailed off as D’gar smiled smugly. ‘You didn’t time it?’

‘I might have done.’

Sh’ran leaned forward, evidently having overheard. ’We aren’t supposed to do that, you know. My Wingleader said so.’

‘Well, no one’s said anything about it to me. Besides, what’s a couple of hours when you’ve done four hundred Turns?’ He stifled another yawn.

‘That’s why. Timing it makes you tired all the time. We always wondered about that too, when we were down south, but it wasn’t until we got back I had it explained properly to me. That’s why it’s not allowed.’

D’gar thought about that. It made sense, really. Living through the same hours in two different places must have some effect on your body. And if you went back to the same place…’Hmm. Wonder what would happen if you met yourself?’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ H’rek said. ‘It sounds dangerous. Come on Sh’ran, let’s get some food.’ J’rud joined them as they made their way to the end of the queue.

D’gar scanned the room again as he carried on eating. Kylara was still playing up to T’bor, glancing occasionally towards F’drun, clearly looking for a reaction. F’drun, for his part, kept his eyes fixed firmly on his plate. It was noticeable that the riders to either side of him made no effort to include him in any chat and that they had left a wider space around him than would normally be the case at mealtimes. If you didn’t know his history, you might even feel sorry for him. D’gar thought again of the rider who’d drunk himself to death and those lads burned to a crisp in the Thread burrow. Plus all the other incidents Pilgra and V’vil had alluded to but not fleshed out. What made someone like that, he wondered? Folk like F’drun, or that Lord who’d slaughtered families and taken over their Holds. Although Fax at least had some motivation, even it was just greed and a desire for conquest. F’drun had nothing to gain from his behaviour.

His thoughts were interrupted as the others returned. He even stole back some meat from H’rek’s plate, although it wasn’t as juicy and tender as the piece he’d had earlier. Several riders went up for seconds. D’gar supposed they didn’t get food like this very often at Benden, judging by the comments he’d heard about rationing and stingy tithes. He didn’t bother - he’d eaten plenty and there was still the food package to dig into once they got back to the weyr.

Everyone had finished and were starting to fetch fruit and mugs of klah when F’lar stood up at the top table and T’bor bashed a tin plate several times to get everyone’s attention. Kylara looked pained and covered her ears. Lessa glared at her fiercely.

‘It’s come to my notice that there have been a few rumours going around concerning our intention to re-open Southern Weyr, so I thought it was time I put some substance to them.’ F’lar’s voice carried well through the cavern. Even the drudges stopped loading dirty plates on the trolleys.

‘I’m glad to tell you all the rumours are true. Yes, we will be going back to the southern continent. As those of you who were there before know, it has many advantages over the north of Pern, not least the abundance of good, fresh produce. We mean to encourage both Weyrfolk and Holders to settle there. There’s plenty of land for everyone. We can import supplies of the best food, rather than having to rely only on tithes.’

There were a few mutters at that. D’gar could understand why. It was the Holders duty to supply the Weyrs. It had worked that way for thousands of Turns.

F’lar held up a hand. ‘I know, I know. It’s not what we should need to do, but for those of you who remember the shortages we had, it does provide an alternative source of supply. Yes, the Holds are tithing generously now that Thread has begun to fall again, but we shouldn’t be complacent. Crops can fail, illness can decimate herds. And although it’s a long way off, when this Pass ends, do we want to be reliant on the whims of Holders? I certainly don’t. Weyrfolk can do far better than that.’

He argued his case well, D’gar thought. Plus, he did have a point. With the expansion of the Holds, there were far more people and beasts to be fed than ever had been in the past. There was no harm at all in planning for the end of the Pass.

‘Over the next few sevendays we’ll be sending working parties to make ready for the move. I’m pleased to be able to announce that T’bor will be resuming his role as Weyrleader at Southern and alongside him, Kylara as Weyrwoman.’

She looked even sulkier at that, D’gar noticed. Most junior weyrwomen would be beside themselves at being given the chance to take charge at a new Weyr. The weather was good there; she had no predecessor for comparison and he was sure that once Prideth laid a gold egg or two, she’d enjoy lording it over her own juniors.

‘As you’ll appreciate, we can’t afford to deplete the Wings too much, so we’ll need to work out schedules regarding the establishment of Southern Weyr. There will be more announcements over the next few days once all the details have been worked out. Thank you.’ He sat down again to a smattering of applause, but mostly to a renewed buzz of conversation as the inevitable speculation began.

‘Well, that’s put the wherry among the dragons,’ J’rud said. ‘How are they going to manage to keep two Weyrs running with scarcely enough dragons for one?’

It was a gamble, to be sure. But there was so much to be gained from it that it would be foolish not to take the opportunity. He’d seen for himself how much planning Benden had put in place when they’d thought they were the only Weyr left to fight Thread. ‘I’ve no doubt they’ll find a way,’ he said.


	21. Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more fallout after the mating flight and D'gar has a chance to compare Herebeth's flying performance with a modern brown dragon.

Back in their weyr, later that evening, D’gar told H’rek what he’d unearthed at High Reaches. He felt very tired by then and longed get some sleep, but H’rek kept asking questions.

‘How can you be certain all this is true? If it’s not in the records…’

‘Firstly, not everything gets written down. Secondly, even if it does, records can decay. And even if they don’t the writer may have his or her own bias. Thirdly, V’vil and Pilgra both seem to me to be trustworthy. She’s a gold rider, after all.’

‘So’s Kylara and I wouldn’t go believing everything she says.’ H’rek paused to take another bite of the spiced bun D’gar had brought back from Fort. ‘These are good. Reminds me of what my mother used to make.’ He chewed thoughtfully. ‘Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to think through reasons why others might be doubtful. I mean, let’s face it, you said yourself that Pilgra doesn’t like F’drun much and neither does V’vil.’

‘But it all fits, doesn’t it? I can see how he’d torment that poor rider until he drank himself to death. I’ve watched him play about with flamethrowers.’ H’rek hadn’t been there that day he’d been on support duty, listening to F’drun’s grim stories and veiled threats. ‘The accident that killed his former Wingleader was in the records.’

‘Set down as an accident, no doubt.’

‘Well, yes. But they would say that, wouldn’t they?’ His tired brain was getting muddled. Had he really discovered anything worthwhile? Maybe he should have stayed for a meal and spoken to more folk at High Reaches Weyr? Only he’d had the feeling others might not have been as forthcoming as V’vil and Pilgra. The whole place had a sense of secrets being kept close; people who learned to keep their opinions to themselves from an early age.

‘You need more evidence,’ H’rek said. ‘I think you should speak to your Wingleader and tell him what you’ve found out so far. But I reckon he’ll come to the same conclusions; it all has a grain of truth but it’s basically Weyr gossip. People assuming nasty things about an unpopular character.’

‘F’drun threatened me. He had no qualms about setting Ryth on me in that lake. You said yourself I could have drowned. If I had, would that have been recorded as another unfortunate accident?’ It was so frustrating. D’gar knew, deep down, that F’drun was potentially dangerous. Surely others had to see that too. If he couldn’t convince them and then something happened, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

‘I know what he’s like. I don’t need convincing. I’m just saying that there’s no real proof.’ H’rek sighed. ‘I don’t really know what else you can do about it, either.’

‘Me neither. I’m going to tell R’feem what I’ve found out anyway. At least then he’s had warning. It’s about all I can do.’

The following morning presented the ideal opportunity. R’feem asked D’gar and B’lin to attend a meeting after breakfast. They adjourned from the dining hall to his weyr. It had the advantage of catching the morning sun and once their dragons had dropped them off, Piroth sprawled across the wide ledge to catch the benefit.

R’feem’s weyr had a large circular table with matching chairs in the main room, plus two comfortable armchairs D’gar remembered from Fort. He noticed there was also a service shaft and a bathing pool and felt relieved that his own weyr wasn’t better equipped than his Wingleader’s.

‘Sit down. Make yourselves at home. Klah, anyone?’ He called the order down to the kitchen and within a minute or so the rather noisy mechanism delivered three steaming mugs.

‘Right. Just a quick meeting really.’ R’feem pulled a slate from one of the niches and read through his notes. ‘This afternoon we’ll be overflying the northern part of Benden Hold. Tomorrow’s Fall starts out at sea, late afternoon, then crosses the mountain range and passes over the Hold itself. We’ll be handing over to Igen Weyr for the second half. The Weyrleader’s charts estimate roughly three hours flying time, so nothing too strenuous for our dragons. We’ll use the greens and blues who stayed in reserve last Fall.’

‘What’s the terrain?’ B’lin asked. ‘Benden end, I mean. I know the Igen part from Fork Hold onwards.’

‘More vineyards of course and general agricultural land. The Hold itself should be fine; they’ll all be safely shut inside. R’gul’s Wing is flying sweep to check everyone’s indoors before it starts and to give us a weather report. D’gar, can you make sure all the dragons and men are fit for duty? As far as I know, no-one suffered unduly in the mating flight and they’ve had a clear day to recover.’

‘F’drun and Ryth will obviously be out, but I’ll need to check on Toth. He got a tail across his eye.’

R’feem nodded. ‘B’lin, if you could co-ordinate the firestone deliveries pre-Fall and inform the greens and blues who’ll be needed. Others to stay on standby, just in case, back here at the Weyr.’

‘Fine. I’ll sort that out.’ B’lin raised his mug and blew some of the steam away.

‘Let’s hope it’s a better Fall than the last. The Benden Wingleaders are still trying to work out what went wrong, even though W’lir and I keep telling them there’s nothing they could have done to prevent those deaths.’ R’feem sighed.

‘I reckon they’re starting to realise that’s just how it goes,’ D’gar said. ‘Well, some of them, at least.’ He wondered how it had been at the beginning of their own Pass - the Eighth - when suddenly Spring Games skills had been tested in deadly earnest. No better, probably. It was one thing to read about tactics in old records or flame harmless strands of fibre, quite another when you found yourself up against stuff that could eat you and your dragon to the bone.

‘Igen’s doing pretty well so far,’ B’lin put in. ‘They’re getting the Weyr back into shape and have only lost two pairs so far. Well, three if you include C’don and Choliarth, of course.’ He paused briefly for a sip of klah. ‘That was something I was meaning to ask about. Are we counted as being from our home Weyrs, or as Benden riders these days? I’m still wearing my Igen knots, you folk are still identifying as Fort, but none of us will be going home for a while, will we?’

R’feem made a face. ‘It’s a good question. There’s not been much said about it. Back in the past, anything over three months was usually treated as a transfer. We’re definitely going to be here longer than that. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.’

That reminded D’gar of something else he’d wanted to know. ‘Did they say anything about mixing the Wings? Getting a few of the Benden youngsters proper Thread fighting experience would be good for everyone.’

‘I remember talking about that with you, and yes, I have mentioned it but there’s a certain degree of reluctance. They’re still set on creating a new Wing with one of their young bronzes as Wingleader.’ R’feem looked at him kindly. ‘I know you’d like to have H’rek in our Wing and I’ve no objection to that. As I’ve said before, we can always use more blues and greens but I’m afraid it’s up to Benden as to whether they want to allow that degree of integration.’

‘Well, the more mating flights there are, the more of that they’re going to get, whether they want it or not. So they might as well accept it.’ B’lin sounded as cheerful as ever. ‘Benden had better get used to not being the only Weyr on Pern any more.’

‘Well, if there’s nothing else…’ R’feem said.

D’gar paused for just a moment. ‘Actually, there is. You know I went over to High Reaches yesterday. I’ve found out some more of F’drun’s history.’

‘From reliable sources?’ R’feem asked cautiously.

‘Most of what I learned came from a junior gold rider. Unfortunately their records are a bit of a mess from neglect over four hundred Turns, but the facts can all be verified.’ That was pushing it slightly but no need to give that away. He outlined briefly what he’d been told; the suspicious accident to F’drun’s Wingleader, his bullying which resulted in the death of a rider and lastly, the ground crew incident. ‘Now, even if there is some exaggeration, I think it’s sufficient evidence for us all to be very careful around him.’

‘I’d agree with that,’ B’lin said. ‘Even since coming here, he’s done some fairly questionable things. Setting Ryth on you, for one. And if you’d not stepped in, he’d have forced K’fol to carry on running on an injured ankle. Plus, he let his dragon go after a queen when it clearly wasn’t an open flight.’

R’feem hesitated for a while before speaking. ‘F’drun is an unpleasant man, I’ll give you that. But as his Wingleader, I have a duty to give everyone a fair chance, whether I like them or not. He’s been punished for what he did to you and his dragon’s suffered from that mating flight. Ryth won’t be fit enough to fly Fall again for a few sevendays, so I’m told -‘

‘But -‘ D’gar started to protest when R’feem held up a hand to stop him.

‘I can see why you’re concerned, but let’s look at this logically. If he really did engineer that accident to his Wingleader, then it was for personal gain. Doing the same to me wouldn’t get him anywhere; he’s not Wingsecond now, so if I was injured - or worse - then you or B’lin would take over my duties. He’s in no position to bully anyone in the Wing. Any influence he hoped to gain within this Weyr vanished when Ryth failed to catch Prideth. However things might work at High Reaches - and V’vil’s told me some stories about that place that’s made me glad not to be there - it’s not like that here. He’s powerless.’

D’gar knew that what R’feem was saying was based on perfectly good reasoning but in the back of his mind he knew that he could never trust F’drun. Even a toothless old watch wher could be dangerous. ‘I can see your point, but I still think we need to be careful.’

‘And we will be.’ R’feem smiled. ‘I appreciate your concern but I think you’re worrying yourself unnecessarily. Now, if that’s all, we’d best finish. I’ve a Wingleaders meeting shortly.’

As they waited for their dragons, B’lin turned to D’gar. ‘You’re right,’ he said quietly, glancing back to make sure R’feem was out of earshot. ‘I wouldn’t trust F’drun as far as I could throw him. It’s bad enough watching out for Thread without having to wonder what tricks someone in your own Wing might pull.’ He stopped as Piroth got up and shook himself a moment before R’feem joined them.

‘One thing I forgot to mention, D’gar,’ the Wingleader said. ‘Now you’re fit again, maybe you could carry on with that exercise program I asked F’drun to take charge of. I know I can trust you to be sensible and not hurt anyone.’

‘Of course. I’ll start the day after Fall.’

‘Excellent.’ He climbed up onto his dragon and they glided away. Almost as soon as the ledge was free, the pair of brown dragons landed to collect their riders.

‘As long as you don’t have us swimming that shaffing lake, I’ll be happy,’ B’lin said.

‘No chance of that.’

He’d gone back to his weyr and unrolled the record hides, ready to do some admin work when Herebeth nudged his mind. _Canth’s rider asks if we are free to fly with him._

D’gar stared at the hides. He should really catch up and put in all the new information he’d gleaned from High Reaches but it was a fine morning and the prospect of flying held far more appeal. Plus, it would give him a chance to speak to F’nor about some of the ideas he’d had. F’nor would be bound to pass them along to the Weyrleader and something might actually get done. _Tell him yes._

After a short pause Herebeth replied. _He says he will meet us beside the Star Stones shortly. And you will need our fighting straps._

Some serious flying, then. Even better.

By the time he was ready, F’nor was already there, chatting to the watch rider. Herebeth landed neatly alongside and D’gar slid down. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘Just a few experiments, that’s all. There are plenty of people theorising about the differences in performance between our dragons and yours, but no one’s actually tried them out. I thought it might be instructive for both of us, if you’ve no objection.’

‘Not at all.’ It would be something of a challenge.

‘Now, if you could just ask Herebeth to move alongside Canth, we can start by comparing the two of them, conformation-wise.’

There were always variations in size and build between dragons of the same colour. Toth, for example, was longer from nose to tail than Herebeth but Herebeth had a greater wingspan. Canth was a large brown even by Benden standards. Examining him this closely, D’gar thought Canth was probably similar in stature to bronze Piroth; certainly much larger than any brown from the past.

Herebeth had the stocky, short-legged build typical of the dragons from his time. He had a broader chest and denser muscle than Canth, but then he’d been fighting Thread regularly for five Turns, so some of that might be down to the sheer amount of work he’d done. He tried to cast his mind back to the way Herebeth had looked when he’d reached his full growth after Hatching, but before they’d joined a Wing. He’d probably resembled a smaller version of Canth back then, sleeker and with less bulk.

F’nor studied the two dragons for some time. ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘It’s not just down to size, is it? They look quite different, side to side.’

‘My thoughts, too. You should probably check out some of the dragons from other Weyrs as well, if you want to be thorough.’ Although, as he’d often thought before, it was the Benden dragons who were the anomalies. Put Herebeth next to Ondiath as they’d been just a short while ago and there were far more similarities than between either of them and a modern brown.

‘Would you mind asking him to open his wings?’

D’gar did so. While he had the opportunity he checked the old scores on the underside of the left wing. They’d healed long ago and he’d been scrupulous about oiling the scar tissue. There was barely any difference in the profile of the two wings now. It was only when you knew where to look that the damage became obvious.

F’nor noticed too. ‘That must have been a nasty injury.’

‘He was out of action for two months. The healers did a good job patching it up though. It’s made no difference in the air.’ Herebeth must be considerably younger than Canth, yet his hide bore the scars of fighting Thread over several Turns.

‘You don’t mind me doing this, do you?’

‘If I did, I’d say something about it.’

‘I thought you might take it better than some of the other riders. There’s still a bit of a “them and us” atmosphere around the place.’

D’gar nodded. ‘Inevitable really. Mind you, being called “old timers” doesn’t help. Or all the jokes about being four hundred Turns old. We do need to integrate more, though, don’t you think? I mean, we’re all fighting the same enemy when it comes down to it.’

‘My thoughts exactly. And the Weyrleader’s. Some of the other bronze riders feel differently.’ He gave a small smile. ‘They don’t like change.’

‘R’gul, huh?’

‘Among others. Still, having Orth fly Prideth reassured a lot of them. If Ryth had succeeded…’

He felt a need to set F’nor’s mind at rest on that possibility. ‘Apparently, Ryth’s never flown a gold, although I only found that out yesterday. Still, it’s not to say another bronze from the five Weyrs mightn’t catch a Benden queen some time. After all, a few of our dragons have caught your greens now.’

‘True enough.’ F’nor smiled. ‘And all of that helps with folk getting to know each other better. Right, think I’m done on the ground. Shall we fly?’

‘Sounds good.’ D’gar couldn’t help feeling as if he and Herebeth were about to become an example of ‘old’ dragon kind and the weight of responsibility made him feel just a little nervous as he clipped and tightened the straps. The two dragons took off.

_Canth asks me to keep alongside and match his moves._

_Go ahead, then. Show him what we can do. Remember that we have to fly again this afternoon, though and it’s Fall tomorrow. Don’t strain yourself._

_Never._

Canth started by powering up in a steep ascent; the move that Benden always used when meeting the leading edge of Fall. Herebeth kept up all the way. D’gar sensed that his dragon also felt the need to show off his capabilities. When they were so high that the Weyr was almost lost among the mountains of the Benden range and the air became thin and cold, he levelled out briefly before swooping into a steep dive.

_Canth says we pull out of the dive on his count,_ Herebeth warned. _Three, two, one… now._

D’gar’s stomach almost got left behind on that move. Canth’s broader wingspan gave him a slight advantage, but Herebeth’s strength made up for any deficiency. They went on to try a variety of turns. Unsurprisingly, Herebeth’s more compact size meant that he could change direction more sharply than Canth, while Canth was able to hold a glide for longer without having to use his wings. D’gar reckoned that Canth’s larger frame meant he would probably be able to flame more Thread in a single blast - maybe as much as a bronze - although that would need to be tested as well. Eventually, they flew level again and F’nor shouted across to him. ‘We’ll land over there, all right?’

He agreed and Canth banked right to lead the way. It was an enviable perch with spectacular views across the mountains. In the far distance, sea and sky met on the eastern horizon. It felt strange to be looking in that direction without straining to see the silver-grey curtain of oncoming Thread.

‘How’s Herebeth feeling?’ F’nor asked.  
‘Fine. Although I don’t want to over stretch him. We’ve a patrol this afternoon and of course, tomorrow…’

‘Threadfall again,’ F’nor finished. ‘We’ve got it easy at the moment, according to all the old records. In a few Turns it’ll become heavier and there’ll be less time to recover between Falls.’

‘That’s right. I remember how frequent they were when I was growing up. By the time I Impressed it was already beginning to tail off.’ Thinking of the last Pass, D’gar suddenly remembered something. ‘When Lessa went back, I heard she got the co-ordinates from an old tapestry.’

‘Yes. It was commissioned to celebrate the last ever Fall of the Eighth Pass, over Ruatha.’

‘I’d like to see that. I was there, you know.’ Although the designer would obviously have concentrated on the golden queens and bronzes, maybe somewhere in the picture was a brown dragon the same shade as Herebeth.

‘It’s back at Ruatha Hold now, where it belongs. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you taking a look. It’s an impressive piece.’

‘I expect half the riders from Fort have been gawping at it trying to find themselves and their dragons. I’ll get to see it some time, I suppose.’

‘Must feel slightly odd to see yourself depicted in something that ancient,’ F’nor mused. ‘No offence meant,’ he added hastily.

‘None taken. I know when I’m from. But we’re all here now and have to make the best of it.’ He wondered if this was the time to mention his idea. ‘I’ve been thinking about this southern expedition,’ he ventured.

‘Oh yes?’

‘Well, it’s going to be stretching resources sending enough men and dragons to start a new Weyr as well as fighting Fall over Benden’s territory. I mean, I expect the Weyrleader’s got some ideas about how to get it done, but I wondered if he’d thought about using some of the walking wounded.’

F’nor looked interested.

‘There must be quite a few riders who are recovering from scores; not up to rejoining the fighting Wings but who are sitting around getting bored. Or men who are uninjured themselves, but whose dragons aren’t yet fit enough for Fall. How about sending a few of those to swell the numbers?’

He considered it for a moment. ‘That’s not a bad idea. We’ve already considered a few different options although nothing’s set in stone as yet. So, you don’t think re-opening Southern's a distraction from what we should be doing?’

‘No. You’ve been there before, so you know it’s a viable place to live. We were always told the southern continent was barren and Thread bared but that’s obviously not the case. It’s there, so why not use it?’

He laughed. ‘You’re less hidebound than some of the folk who were born this end of time, do you know that?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Just practical, that’s all.’

‘Talking of which, are you ready to fly again?’

‘Sure.’

They had another session comparing the performance of the two dragons before returning to the Weyr. Herebeth had enjoyed the workout as much as he had. But the admin was still waiting to be done and after ordering klah, he settled down at the desk while Herebeth curled up on his warm couch for a nap. As he started to copy information onto a new hide, he found his mind wandering. Towards the end, he’d shown F’nor and Canth a few manoeuvres he’d not seen the Benden riders using; practical Thread dodging moves rather than anything fancy such as might be used when competing in the Spring Games. It would be useful to pass on skills and knowledge such as those to the modern riders and dragons. Maybe he could organise some unofficial sessions. Surely that would foster a spirit of co-operation and help break down the ‘them and us’ barriers? However, even as the thought took shape, he knew that not everyone would appreciate the intervention and that although some would take it well, others might deem it interfering or even patronising. It would have to be handled carefully.

He sipped his klah and stared at the hide on his desk. Wrote a couple of lines, then found his thoughts drifting once more. This afternoon, they’d be in the air again, over a different part of Benden Hold. How many Turns would it be before he knew this part of the northern continent as well as his home turf; Fort, Boll, Ruatha? Might he, one day, consider this his home?

Herebeth’s voice drew him from his musings. _You should come out here. Something is happening._

He placed his pen carefully in the well and pushed past the heavy curtain. Herebeth had moved forward to the ledge and was watching keenly. As he joined his dragon, he heard an angry voice rising up from the Bowl.

‘Just get out! Get out of my life, you useless man.’ It was Kylara he heard. Kylara, who was standing in the mouth of her weyr throwing things out. Throwing them at F’drun, who ducked as a boot narrowly missed the side of his head.

‘Please, Kylara.’ His voice was low but carried well. ‘Give me another chance.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ She balled up a couple of shirts and hurled them his way. They fell short, onto the muddy ground. ‘You’re no use to me any more.’

F’drun stooped to pick up his clothing, wincing as the other boot caught him in the back.

‘I never want to see you again!’ She turned briskly, her full skirt swirling. As she disappeared back inside her weyr, Prideth shifted so that the dragon formed an impassable gold barrier.

D’gar watched as F’drun carefully gathered up his belongings, gave one last, lingering look towards the weyr and walked slowly away.


	22. A Family Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H'rek takes D'gar to visit his family in Southern Boll.

‘Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’ J’rud sounded cheerful as he slid down from Zurinth. Threadfall over Benden Hold had been light. There were just a handful of casualties and no fatalities. An air of relief hung over the Weyr; the Benden riders had recovered their confidence and even though everyone in R’feem’s Wing knew that was just how it went sometimes, they were still glad to have got through another easy one.

‘Not too bad at all,’ D’gar agreed. _Any sign of Rioth yet?_ he asked Herebeth.

After a couple of seconds he had the reply. _They are checking for burrows in the vineyards._

That horrible story about the Holder’s son sprang instantly to mind. He’d not known the Queens’ Wing would be on ground duty today. _Tell Rioth to make sure H’rek keeps a line attached if he’s anywhere near a burrow._ Images flashed through his mind; Kylara turning her flamethrower on H’rek, F’drun pushing him into a roiling mass of Thread. No, no, no.

Herebeth caught the tail end of it. _Do not worry. Rioth will look after him. And Ramoth is with them, not Prideth. Ryth and his rider are both here, at the Weyr._

_Thank you._ There were times when a dragon’s good sense brought you back to reality; unlike a human, they weren’t troubled by wild imaginings or worries about what might happen.

‘Well done.’ R’feem patted him on the back as he passed. ‘You both flew a good Fall today.’

‘Thanks.’

D’gar was already relaxing in the bathing pool by the time H’rek returned. He sat on the bed to pull off his muddy boots.

‘Hope you didn’t trail that all through the weyr.’ D’gar swam over and leaned on the side of the pool, watching him. ‘Had a good Fall?’

‘I hate ground crew duties.’ H’rek had got his left boot off but was struggling with the right one.

‘You and most everyone else.’ Still, he was back in one piece and that was what counted. ‘That’s why we take it in turns.’

‘Rioth flamed a load of Thread, though. Lessa was pleased with us.’

‘Good.’

Hopefully she’ll put in a good word for me with N’ton, when they finally get round to giving him a Wing.’ H’rek finally pulled the right boot off, at the expense of getting mud all over his hands. ‘Shards!’

D’gar threw a towel to him. ‘They’ll be pushing it to have enough dragons spare to form another Wing, now that Southern Weyr’s starting up again. More like you’ll all just get dispersed around the existing Wings.’ Even that wouldn’t happen until there were more weyrlings to take their place delivering firestone but H’rek already knew that and it would only irritate him to hear it yet again.

H’rek wiped his hands, then started to take off his clothes. ‘Maybe they’ll send Prideth’s clutch back a few Turns like they did with us.’

‘Maybe.’ He didn’t think they would, though. There was no real need for timing it now and anyway, where would they send them? They’d have to go a lot further back, or set up yet another Weyr in a different location so people wouldn’t end up bumping into each other in the past. ‘I bet you Ramoth will rise again soon. If she lays, say another thirty eggs on top of Prideth’s, the numbers will soon go up.’

‘Ramoth laid forty-one last time.’

He was impressed. ‘Good for her.’ Clutches that size had been rare at Fort, probably due to the fact that they had been coming close to the end of the Pass, when egg production might be expected to diminish. From perusing old records, D’gar knew larger clutches were not just triggered by long mating flights, but also the proximity of the Red Star to Pern; gold dragons began rising frequently and laying more eggs ten Turns or so before Thread began to fall. He moved over to let H’rek join him in the pool.

H’rek dunked his head under the water and swam across to grab a handful of sweetsand. ‘Kylara was in a bad mood today,’ he commented as he lathered up his hair. ‘Ordering folk around and such like. Nearly snapped my head off when I didn’t hand up her flamethrower quickly enough.’

D’gar had already told him about the incident he’d witnessed between Kylara and F’drun the previous day. ‘Are you surprised at that? She didn't get her own way. It’s how spoilt brats like her react.’

‘Lessa told her off again, too.’

‘Doubtless that made her mood even sweeter.’

‘It makes me wonder, sometimes. How someone like her - or like F’drun - even get to Impress a dragon in the first place. All the Teaching Ballads seem to imply that dragonriders are the best of people.’

‘I know. But you’ve been at the Weyr long enough now to know that’s not always the case. Just like anyone else, dragonriders can be greedy, jealous or downright nasty. Impressing a dragon doesn’t necessarily make you a better person. A lot of it’s down to being in the right place at the right time.’ Thinking of Impression always reminded him of that wonderful day when a tiny brown dragon had called out into his mind on Fort Weyr’s Hatching Sands. Having a dragon changed you in subtle ways but your basic personality didn’t alter much.

Judging from H’rek’s expression, he too was remembering the day he Impressed Rioth. ‘I was so worried none of the dragons would pick me. I’d already stood for Ramoth’s clutch and failed.’

‘Not everyone Impresses on their first try. Some of the lads at Fort were put to the egg three, four times before they succeeded. It just means your dragon’s not hatched yet, that’s all.’

‘Did you Impress first time?’

‘Second.’ Although, the first time he’d not tried too hard. There had been a lot more candidates than eggs so he’d simply stood well back and shut his mind off. Not because he didn’t want to Impress at all, just not that day. S’brin - Serebrin as he was then - had been ill with a fever, confined to the infirmary. They’d both wanted to Impress at the same time, so he’d done all he could to make sure that was what happened. And it had all come right, because the second time around Herebeth and Zemianth had hatched and found their riders.

‘Does it ever happen that a dragon can’t find the right person to Impress?’

‘It does, according to the records. That’s why they always make sure to have plenty of candidates, so the hatchlings have a good choice.’ He realised suddenly that both times H’rek had attended a Hatching, he’d been down on the Sands. It all seemed to happen so fast when that was the case. You didn’t appreciate how amazing it was until you’d watched the process from the stands a few times. ‘Some dragons break their shell and go straight for one person. Others take their time looking around before they make up their minds.’

H’rek rinsed his hair then shook the water away. ‘Rioth was like that. I was concentrating on this particular egg that was starting to crack and she sneaked up on me and knocked me over.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘How did it go for you?’

‘It was a small clutch. Just twelve eggs.’ There’d been that nagging worry he’d not succeed this time, or that one of them would Impress and the other be left standing. ‘It was Kadoth’s last clutch, as it happened. She was getting fairly old by then and didn’t rise often.’ Kadoth had been a placid dragon; not at all like Loranth, who always hissed and lashed her tail around, thoroughly scaring the candidates before she’d finally allow them near her precious eggs. ‘I actually saw Herebeth break his shell, but I didn’t think he’d go for me. The odds were on me Impressing a green.’

‘Really? Why?’ H’rek sounded surprised.

‘A lot of my friends were green riders. Plus, I was already in a relationship with Serebrin. They were convinced he’d get a blue. Anyway, I was watching the eggs rocking and cracking and trying to think happy, welcoming thoughts while Herebeth was taking a good look at everyone on the Sands. Then he finally decided I was the one. A few folk lost good marks on that Hatching.’ He’d been so overwhelmed by the experience that he’d not even seen Serebrin Impress Zemianth.

H’rek swam across. ‘I’m very glad Herebeth chose you. And that Rioth picked me. Otherwise, we might never have met.’

D’gar kissed him. ‘I know.’ Life was strange like that. There were so many possibilities every day, so many choices made by people or by fate that could lead to one or the other set of events. ‘You know I promised my mum I’d take you to Fort to meet her. Maybe we should do that tomorrow. We could even drop in on your folk.’

H’rek made a face. ‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea.’

‘Why not? Have you even seen them since you went off on Search?’

‘No. That’s the problem. For them, that was just a few months ago. I’m nearly two Turns older. How am I going to explain that away?’

D’gar considered for a moment. ‘You could try the truth. They must already have heard about all the Weyrs coming forward in time. Or I could tell them, if you wanted.’

‘You’d come with me?’

‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘You can introduce me as your four hundred and twenty-three Turn old boyfriend.’

H’rek pushed him. ‘Oh, you! The boyfriend part is bad enough. They already think the worst about what goes on at the Weyr.’

‘They’ll be proud of you. Not everyone Impresses, after all.’

‘I don’t know.’ He sounded doubtful.

‘You should let them know you’re all right anyway. They must be worrying about you. Especially with Threadfall.’

‘I suppose,’ he said reluctantly.

D’gar suspected that H’rek’s family would change their tune once they saw him with Rioth. Surely anyone’s parents would be glad that their son had Impressed a dragon. Agarra had been overjoyed. She’d hugged both of them; D’gar and Herebeth.

‘All right. But can we get it over with first, so I can enjoy the visit to Fort Weyr?’

‘Whatever you want.’

The following morning, as promised, he held the first fitness session with the Wing, being sure to ask beforehand if anyone had any injuries that might cause problems. There was no way he was going to make the same stupid mistakes F’drun had. He took it slowly; he was nowhere near as fit as he’d been when S’brin was alive and always nagging him to join in with some form of exercise. The dragons watched with interest before ferrying their exhausted riders back for breakfast.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ B’lin said. ‘You’ve got a knack for this sort of thing.’

‘That’s because my former weyrmate was a fitness fanatic.’

‘Shells, yes,’ G’reden broke in. ‘Those two were up at dawn very morning, running round the Bowl, lifting weights, all sorts. Whatever the weather, too. The only thing that stopped them was an early Fall.’

‘I didn’t much like it in bad weather,’ D’gar admitted. ‘I used to leave him to it, but he always made me feel guilty for not joining in.’ A couple of months ago, even those memories would have been painful but now he found he could think about S’brin and the life they’d had together without the grief overshadowing everything else.

He spent the rest of the morning catching up with admin from the last Threadfall, cleaning Herebeth’s straps and tidying up the weyr. H’rek and Rioth were off with the other youngsters from Prideth’s clutch; they had some assessments going on. He skipped lunch, opting for a few biscuits and hot klah sent up to the weyr. Even if H’rek’s family didn’t force a meal on them both (and what mother wasn’t always ready with a plate of food) then Agarra certainly would.

H’rek got back just after lunch, when D’gar was lying down having a nap. Exercising had made him tired.

‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to visit my folks?’ He sat on the edge of the bed, a glum expression on his face.

‘Definitely. Look, I know you said you never got on with your father…’ Who wasn’t actually his father, if the story was true. ‘But you really should visit, if only to let them know you’re alive and well.’

‘I know. It feels weird, though. All the time that’s passed for me. I keep thinking they’ll have forgotten me, that my little sister will be grown up, my brother married off.’

D’gar couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left under a cloud. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you get some girl pregnant?’

‘Shards, no!’

‘Seduce some boy, then?’

‘Not that either.’

‘Well, nothing to worry about, then.’

‘Just…’ he started to speak, then tailed off abruptly.

‘What?’

‘Just don’t go putting your arm around me in front of them, or anything like that.’

‘Can I call you darling? Or sweetie?’

‘No!’ He sounded horrified.

D’gar found it amusing. ‘So why am I there with you, then?’

‘You’re my Wingsecond, making sure I get there and back safely.’ He’d obviously thought it through. ‘And you can say you’re visiting your mother at Fort Weyr. They’ll understand that.’

‘Well, all right, then. I’ll let you do do all the talking.’

It was always a pleasure to fly with H’rek and Rioth, even if they weren’t doing any aerobatics today. Herebeth got his co-ordinates from Rioth and they emerged from between over lush farmland typical of the Southern Boll region. The balmy climate made for a long growing season with a wide variety of crops. It still looked different than in his memory; he didn’t think this particular farm hold had existed four hundred Turns ago. They descended in a slow spiral so as not to frighten the herd beasts grazing close to the farm and its outbuildings. Tiny figures far below looked up as they spotted the pair of dragons.

They landed next to the stone built house which was sensibly sited against a rocky hillside, the area around it scoured clean of greenery. A few people watched from a cautious distance. Well, they’d not have been expecting the visit. Maybe they thought the greedy dragonriders were here on Search again and wanted to take more of their children.

D’gar let H’rek take the lead. It was his family, after all. It was obvious that they didn’t recognise him right away. It was only when he pulled off the flying cap to reveal his bright blond hair that a woman - who must surely be his mother - broke away from all the others, running to meet him.

‘Hinnarek!’ She hugged him tightly, then stood back to get a better view. ‘You’ve grown. You look so different. What have they been feeding you?’

‘It’s H’rek now, mother,’ he corrected. ‘Here’s my dragon, Rioth. And this…’ he gestured toward D’gar, ‘Is one of our Wingseconds.’

D’gar took the opportunity to step forward. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m D’gar, rider of brown Herebeth, from Fort Weyr.’

‘Fort, you say.’ A middle aged man spoke, suspicion in his tone. ‘Thought he was at Benden Weyr.’

‘He is. So am I. Seconded from Fort.’

‘Well I never,’ H’rek’s mother said. ‘Are you one of those folk who travelled through time?’

D’gar smiled briefly. ‘That’s correct.’

‘Well, you’d best come on inside. Will your dragons be all right out here?’

‘They aren’t going to eat any of our stock, are they?’ the man asked, casting a wary glance toward the pair.

‘No,’ H’rek answered shortly. ‘They’ve fed recently. They won’t need to eat again for a few days.’

It all seemed very formal, very stilted. D’gar wondered if this was the way H’rek’s family normally behaved. It was very different from the Weyr.

Inside the house, with the Threadfall shutters fully open, it felt light and airy. They sat around the scrubbed wooden table and H’rek’s mother brought klah. ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she said, placing H’rek’s mug down. She was clearly pleased to see him again, although she seemed nervous, glancing toward the man who must be her husband. He sat on the edge of a chair, as if he couldn’t wait to get away. D’gar began to realise why H’rek hadn’t been too keen to come back.

‘Well, I thought I should visit. Let you know I’m all right.’

‘I’m sure they’d have informed me if you weren’t,’ the man snapped. His gaze flicked toward D’gar. ‘Fort Weyr, hmm. You can tell them from me I’m not happy with all their demands.’

H’rek looked deeply uncomfortable, but said nothing.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have any jurisdiction at Fort. You’d best ask to speak to the Weyrleader if there are problems.’

‘As if that will make any difference. You dragonriders are all the same.’ The chair scraped the floor as he abruptly pushed it back. ‘Now, if you don’t mind I need to get out to the fields and do some work. Can’t go wasting the day like some.’ As he turned to leave, he barked an order at the other folk. ’And the rest of you can get to your tasks as well.’ They trailed out, silently.

An awkward silence prevailed. H’rek’s mother broke it. ‘Please excuse my husband,’ she said to D’gar. ‘He has a lot on his mind at the moment. He didn’t mean any offence.’

D’gar thought that was exactly what the man had intended, but it wasn’t the poor woman’s fault she’d married a miserable sod. ‘None taken. I understand it must be difficult for you, with Thread returning after so long.’

She gave a little smile. ‘I’m afraid he was one of those who thought it had gone for good.’

‘Ah.’

‘It suited him to support that theory,’ H’rek put in. ‘Whether he believed it or not is another thing.’

‘Hin… H’rek. There’s no need for that. Your father -‘

‘He isn’t though, is he?’

It was D’gar’s turn to wish he could go _between_ to escape. He raised the mug of klah, more to hide behind than because he was actually thirsty. Although it was a good brew.

‘Isn’t what?’

‘My father.’

‘Er, excuse me. I should go and check on the dragons.’ Both H’rek and his mother turned to look at him. ‘Well, if you’ve personal things to discuss…’

‘You already know what I’m talking about.’

That was true. ‘Yes, but…’ He’d no wish to hear long kept secrets being brought into the open. ‘This is a family matter.’

H’rek glanced quickly at him. ‘You are family. Well, to me, anyway.’

D’gar caught the sharper look from H’rek’s mother at that. She obviously wasn’t stupid.

‘I overheard you both arguing,’ H’rek went on in a very even, dispassionate tone. ‘I know what happened and I know he’s not my father. It made sense of a lot of things.’

‘It wasn’t… we didn’t mean for you to hear.’ Her face crumpled. She sat at the table, gripping its edge as if it was all that kept her from sinking into a Thread burrow or something equally as treacherous.

‘It’s true, though?’

She bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said, finally, in a small voice.

The silence stretched out. D’gar wished H’rek would go and comfort his mother, or say something. Shells, he felt like saying something, if only to break the tension.

‘Well, that was all really,’ H’rek said. ‘I’ll be off and not bother you again.’ He stood. ‘Come on. We’re going,’ he said to D’gar.

D’gar spoke up. ’You can’t just leave. You might have had a few Turns to think about this, but your mother hasn’t.’

H’rek ignored him and continued to address her. ‘I’m glad I got Searched that day. He was right about one thing. The Weyr’s the best place for folk like me.’ He looked at D’gar then. ‘Like us.’

It was as if he’d decided to burn all his bridges at once. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. D’gar watched him stride to the door before he got to his feet too. He turned to H’rek’s mother, gave her an apologetic smile and followed. By the time he reached the door, H’rek was half way across the courtyard towards his dragon.

‘Please…’ H’rek’s mother stopped him. There was a stricken expression on her face.

A couple of youngsters ran across to H’rek. A small girl with long blond hair, who must surely be his sister, hugged him. Rioth leaned over them all, like a protective guardian. D’gar thought he should give them all some time together and try to reassure H’rek’s mother.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault, really. It was my idea he should come back here. I didn’t realise things were so difficult at home.’

‘Does he… does he talk about us?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘And is he happy?’

‘Yes. I think so.’

‘Well…’ she said. ‘If he wants to, tell him he can visit again any time.’

‘Of course.’

‘And… look after him.’

D’gar smiled. ‘I’ll always do that.’ He squeezed her arm gently.

_Is everything all right?_ Herebeth asked. _Rioth says H’rek is upset._

That was a first. Dragons rarely named anyone directly. _It’s family stuff. Complicated._

_Are we going to Fort Weyr soon?_

_Yes._

_Good. I do not like it here._

He could obviously feel the strong emotions roiling around. D’gar strolled over. Close up, he could see the family resemblance between H’rek and his siblings. Thankfully, he seemed more at ease with them than he had in the house and they appeared to be equally pleased to see him again. He gave them some space, leaning against Herebeth’s sun-warmed hide as they chatted eagerly. H’rek’s mother still stood in the doorway. Evidently she wanted to look at her son for as long as she could, even if there was to be no other communication between them.

‘So, are they going to burn stuff, like those other dragons did?’ A younger version of H’rek asked him the question.

‘Only if they chew firestone. And we don’t have any with us today.’ Maybe the lad had been on ground crew duty and had seen dragons flaming Thread.

‘They burned Uncle Hivall’s orchard.’

‘Oh? Had Thread burrowed?’

‘No, they just burned it ‘cos he wouldn’t let them take his herdbeasts. Then the dragons ate three of them anyway.’

D’gar thought that if they’d done that, the Holder had probably deserved it. Although flaming an entire orchard seemed rather extreme. Maybe the lad was exaggerating. ‘Dragons have to eat,’ he said, flatly.

‘Are your dragons going to eat our beasts?’

‘They aren’t hungry right now.’

‘Stop pestering him, Hinnergal.’ H’rek said. ‘Or his dragon might eat you.’

The lad stepped back a pace. ‘Dragons don’t eat people,’ he said, although there was an edge of doubt in his voice.

‘If they ate you, they’d probably get sick.’ The blond girl said scornfully. She was close enough to Rioth’s foreleg to reach out and touch, showing off her bravery. ‘Oh. It’s warm.’ She sounded surprised.

‘Dragons are. Especially when they’ve been in the sun. And Rioth’s a she, not an “it”.’ H’rek told her, although not ungently.

‘Rioth,’ she said, trying out the name. She looked at D’gar. ‘So what’s your dragon called?’

‘His name is Herebeth.’

She stepped back to take in the two dragons. ‘Do they like each other?’

H’rek smiled. ‘Yes.’

She seemed to consider that for a moment. ‘Do they mate, just like herdbeasts?’

‘Hamarra. You shouldn’t ask such things.’ H’rek said quickly.

‘Not quite like herd beasts,’ D’gar told her, matter of factly. ‘They mate while they’re flying.’

‘So…’ Hamarra frowned. ‘Will Rioth lay eggs?’

‘Er, no. Green dragons don’t. Gold dragons lay the eggs.’ D’gar stole a glance at H’rek, who was looking slightly embarrassed. Holdbred folk were odd, he thought. If H’rek’s sister knew about herdbeasts mating - and why shouldn’t she, living on a farm hold - then she was old enough to know about other creatures breeding habits.

Emboldened by Hamarra’s move, a couple of the other children dared to touch Rioth as well. She looked at them solemnly, her eyes whirling a placid blue-green. Herebeth seemed to have settled, although he still radiated wariness.

D’gar thought it best to change the subject, to spare H’rek any further blushes. Even though he looked quite cute when he blushed. ‘Can any of you tell me the other dragon colours?’

‘That’s easy,’ said the boy, Hinnergal. ‘There’s gold and bronze, brown, blue and green.’

‘Well, you’ve seen two of those now.’

‘Three,’ said Hamarra. ‘The dragon that came on Search was blue. And there was a brown one too, but he was a lighter colour than Herebeth.’

‘They do vary a bit, just like people. Or herdbeasts.’

‘Hey!’ A loud yell made all the youngsters look up. H’rek’s not-father had emerged from a barn, leading a pair of heavily built runner beasts harnessed to a cart. ‘I’ll have no shirking round here. Leave those dragons alone and get to work.’

Reluctantly, they obeyed. Hamarra stayed the longest. ‘When will you come back and see us again?’ she asked plaintively.

H’rek looked at his feet. ‘We aren’t allowed to leave the Weyr that often.’

‘But you’ll come back whenever you can?’

He nodded briefly, then watched her as she ran across the yard and jumped into the back of the cart to join her siblings. She kept her eyes on the dragons for as long as she could, until the cart turned a corner and passed out of sight.

H’rek sighed. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.


	23. The Southern Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar has a talk with M'rell and H'rek finds out some news.

Thanks to the exercise sessions, D’gar didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in the following morning. They’d arrived back late from Fort Weyr and he was still yawning as he met the rest of the Wing by the lake. When he returned to their weyr, he found H’rek still lying in bed, enjoying an impromptu breakfast selection from the food parcel Agarra had sent.

‘Your mum’s great,’ he said, taking a bite from one of the spiced buns. ‘I could eat these all day.’

‘I think she approved of you.’ It had been informative for H’rek to visit a different Weyr. He’d met several of D’gar’s old friends and clutchmates, while Rioth had attracted quite a lot of attention by virtue of being the biggest green dragon they’d seen and more importantly, had the chance to study up close rather than as a distant speck in the air. ‘Did you have a good gossip with the green riders?’ Doubtless they’d have grilled him while they were comparing dragons.

H’rek nodded. ‘They told me lots about you.’

D’gar groaned inwardly, although he’d expected no less. ‘Nothing too bad, I hope.’

‘Mostly about the wild parties you and S’brin used to hold in your weyr.’

‘Ah, those.’

‘Wonder why no-one does that here?’

‘They probably do, just you haven’t been here for long enough to know about it. Remember, we’d all grown up together so we were friends before we even Impressed. We just carried on with it once we got our own weyrs.’ There’d been a lot of booze and fooling around, although the individual parties tended to merge together in his memory, most probably due to the effects of all the alcohol. ‘I expect they have a green riders group here, too. S’brin used to go off to those about once a month. I wasn’t allowed, of course.’

‘Maybe I’ll ask around.’

‘Yes, you should. J’rud will probably know all about it. I know we’ve not been here that long either, but he tends to find out about things like that.’ Not for the first time, he wished H’rek could have Impressed in a proper Weyr, rather than down south. They’d missed out on a lot of the support - beyond the formal training - that most weyrlings enjoyed. ‘I’m going to get klah. Want some?’

‘Please.’

He called down the service shaft and within a couple of minutes a steaming brew arrived. He carried the mugs over. ‘What have you got planned today?’

‘We’ve been asked to attend a meeting later this morning.’

‘Another one? What’s that about?’

‘Possibly the new Wing. That’s what everyone thinks, anyway.’

‘I still don’t know how that’s even a possibility. Some of the existing Wings are well under strength. They’d be better off to merge a couple together than form a new one.’

‘Yes, but that would mean demoting some of the bronzes and they wouldn’t like it.’

‘Tough.’ D’gar picked one of the rolls from the basket and dunked it in his klah. ‘It’s how it goes. Once more dragons come along, they’ll get a Wing back again. If they deserve it, that is.’ At Fort, there were always more bronze riders than available Wingleader positions. It was better for a young rider to work their way up; have a couple of Turns as a Wingsecond before taking on a leadership role. Benden seemed to promote based purely on dragon colour rather than experience or suitability. They’d have to change, of course; Prideth’s first clutch had hatched far too many bronzes for them all to end up as Wingleaders. ‘Trouble is, Benden’s lacking in greens and blues. The percentages are all wrong.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, in most Weyrs, there are only about five percent bronzes. Any more than that and you start thinking about transfers to other Weyrs. Browns are generally around fifteen percent. We can fight a full six-hour Fall, like a bronze, but there’s more of us. Blues are generally about thirty percent and greens fifty. You need more of the smaller colours to swap out during a Fall. Plus, they’re nimbler and more manoeuvrable, so they can mop up anything that’s missed by the larger dragons.’

H’rek chewed his roll. ‘I’d never thought of it like that. Some of the comments about greens and blues I’ve heard are really disparaging.’

‘You couldn’t run a Weyr without them. Every colour has its purpose.’ Some of the Benden Weyr attitudes were strange, although he supposed they had come about through the long Turns of being the only Weyr on Pern during a time when Threadfall was only a distant memory.

‘When we were waiting for Prideth’s eggs to hatch, there was a lot of speculation about which colours everyone was going to get. Most of them wanted bronzes. No one wanted to get a green. Made me feel kind of sorry for them. Green dragons, that is. Maybe that’s why Rioth picked me.’

‘It’s possible. We were always told to keep an open mind as far as colours went. If you set your mind on only attracting one particular colour, you might end up with nothing at all.’

‘That was sort of how I reasoned it. Plus, I’m not ambitious. I know I’ll never be a Wingleader or even a Wingsecond, but that doesn’t bother me.’

‘That’s fine so long as you have someone competent in the role. But imagine being at High Reaches and ending up with F’drun as your Wingleader.’ Shaffit! He was thinking about F’drun again. He was still keeping himself apart from the rest of the Wing, probably through embarrassment as much as anything else. The whole Weyr knew about Kylara throwing him out by now.

‘I suppose there is that. You’re lucky to have R’feem.’

‘He’s not perfect, but at least he gives us a certain amount of leeway to act on our own initiative. Some Wingleaders don’t want their Wingseconds to know as much as they do, or think for themselves. R’feem likes it that way so either of us could take over if anything happened to him.’

H’rek looked surprised. ‘But you and B’lin both ride browns. You’re not allowed to lead a Wing.’

‘Maybe not according to Benden’s way of doing things, but if you’re in the middle of a Fall someone has to be able to carry on. Back in the past, if a Wingleader or his dragon was injured, one of the Wingseconds could end up in charge for a couple of sevendays, until they were fit again. Didn’t matter if they were a bronze or a brown, it was all down to ability.’ It made him wonder what might happen here, at Benden, if R’feem wasn’t able to lead them through Fall. Would the Weyrleader insist on someone else taking over the Wing; V’vil or even F’drun, just because they rode bronzes? He made another mental note to ask for clarification on that.

‘Anyway, didn’t you tell me that F’nor was more or less in charge when you were in the south.’

‘Well, yes. T’bor was Weyrleader by name, but everyone knew it was F’nor making the decisions.’

‘There you go, then. I’m pretty sure F’nor could lead a Wing if it came to it.’ Maybe that was how Benden played it; allowing hidebound rules to be bent when it suited them.

‘He probably could,’ H’rek agreed. ‘Although F’nor is kind of an exception, being F’lar’s half-brother.’

‘Yes. I’ve noticed. Still, I’ve no problem with him. He got us this weyr.’ Hopefully, F’nor would also relay his ideas to the Weyrleader. He’d not told H’rek about that, although he’d mentioned that they’d gone flying together. It was best not to reveal too much when you were skirting the bounds of protocol. Properly, he should have let R’feem bring it up in a Wingleaders meeting, except he had a feeling that most of those didn’t actually achieve much. The Benden bronze riders had too much else on their agenda to agree on anything, especially if it was suggested by someone from another Weyr.

‘So, what are you up to today?’

‘I still need to try and talk to M’rell. He’s been avoiding me every time I try to get him on his own. I’m not sure what’s up with him.’

‘I thought you two had been friends for Turns.’

‘We were. And like all friends, we occasionally fell out over stupid things, especially when we were younger. But he really seems to have taken this to heart and I don’t like it. Toth getting injured has made him even more depressed.’

‘Will he be all right? Toth, I mean.’

‘Yes, the dragon healers think so. The eye’s healing up well, but we can’t let him fly Fall until he has full vision again. So M’rell’s kicking around getting bored and drinking too much. It’s a vicious circle.’

When H’rek had left for his meeting, D’gar asked Herebeth to bespeak Toth. _Ask him if I can visit._ Dropping in without warning might irritate M’rell even more.

_Later on,_ he says. _And his rider asks you to bring some of that Benden white._

Well, that was easy enough to do. Maybe having a few drinks with M’rell, just like old times, would solve the problem. A few of Agarra’s edible treats from Fort wouldn’t go amiss either. D’gar set to work updating the Wing’s Threadfall records with a lighter heart.

By the time he’d finished, his shoulders were stiff from hunching over the desk. He stood and stretched, then fished around under the bed for the skin of wine. He gave it a quick sniff - still fine - and headed off.

_We’re going to Toth’s weyr. Tell him we’re on the way._

It was only a short hop; just a couple of dragons’ lengths along the side of the Bowl and two levels higher. Toth had moved forward from his couch and touched muzzles with Herebeth briefly. His left eye definitely looked inflamed and some matter had leaked down the side of his face from its corner. ‘Poor Toth,’ D’gar said as he passed by.

M’rell pulled aside the curtain. ‘It’s a lot better than it was. At least he’s opening all the lids now. And he tells me it doesn’t hurt. Come on in.’

His weyr was messy, with crumpled clothes strewn about the place, a couple of empty wineskins abandoned by the one comfortable chair and an unmade bed. M’rell offered him the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, fishing around among the sleeping furs for some cups.

D’gar felt like asking him if he should be drinking so early in the day but he knew that wouldn’t be well received. ‘You all right?’ he said instead.

‘I’ve been better.’

‘It was bad luck, Toth getting clobbered like that.’

M’rell shrugged. ‘I’m bad luck right now. Nothing in my life is going right.’ He offered one cup to D’gar, who poured them both a generous helping of the white. M’rell drank deeply. ‘Ah. Much better than that Tillek piss I’ve been drinking.’

‘Tillek wine’s always been a bit rough. Mind you, we used to knock it back in the old days, didn’t we? What was it you used to say? “After four cups you can’t tell the difference.”’ He took a sip of the Benden. Yes, it was still good.

‘Something like that.’ He took another drink. ‘It’s this place,’ he said, after a short while.

‘What is?’

‘Ever since we got here, nothing’s gone right for me.’

‘It’s not that bad.’

M’rell made a face as if he’d just swallowed some more of the unpalatable Tillek. ‘Maybe for you, it’s not. I’ve been stuck shovelling firestone into bags, Toth’s hurt and we’re not allowed out of the place. Shards, but I wish I could go back to Fort.’

‘I brought you some buns. Mum made them.’ He held out the bag. ‘A taste of home, at least.’

‘How is it at Fort, these days?’

‘Getting there. They’ve cleared it up a lot since we left. Looks almost the same as it used to.’

‘Did you see any of the old crowd?’

D’gar filled him in on the latest gossip and news, refreshing his cup a few times. M’rell drank three cups to his one. Still, he was talking and that was what mattered.

‘I appreciate this, you know,’ he said finally, when there were no more stories.

‘Don’t be daft. What are old friends for?’

‘I’m sorry about the things I said, before. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘It’s fine. You were drunk and upset.’

‘And now I’m getting drunk again.’ He gave a grin. ‘No, I’ve had plenty of time to think, while Toth’s been out of action. It’s not your fault things are going well for you and that they’re not for me. After what happened to you, you deserve it.’

‘Not how it works, is it? It’s not as if fate decides some poor sod should be given a chance to fall in love again. Or that someone else gets dealt a bad hand. It’s just how life works. Anything can fall apart at any time. I know that all too well.’

M’rell gazed into his cup. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t fall apart again.’

‘And that your luck changes. I’ll drink to that.’ He raised his cup. M’rell did likewise and they both drank. ’So, is Toth allowed to fly yet?’

‘Yes, they said he could. Trouble is, I’m banned from leaving the Weyr.’

‘You could still have a turn around the Bowl to stretch his wings. And if you want to take him further, I’ll find out if they can make an exception. I’m sure it would be fine if we flew together.’ The purpose of the punishment was to stop riders going out for fun; it wasn’t intended to prevent recuperating dragons from getting necessary exercise.

‘Thanks. That would be good.’ He sighed again. ‘Don’t you feel sometimes this is all so… futile.’

That was deep for M’rell. ‘Life’s never futile.’

‘No, but we should have been enjoying life after Threadfall right now. Not stuck here in a time where we don’t fit, protecting people who don’t appreciate it. It might not be so bad if we were still at Fort, but they haven’t exactly gone out of their way to make us feel like we’re a part of this Weyr.’

‘They haven’t had much time to get used to us, in all fairness. Remember, Benden was the only Weyr for four hundred Turns. Dealing with other weyrfolk is as new for them as coping with Thread. Give it a Turn or so and things will settle down.’ He thought of what B’lin had said. ‘We’ll gradually start mixing together. It’s human nature. The dragons don’t seem to have any problem.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ He didn’t really sound convinced. ‘It’s not just me feels like this, you know. Coming forward seemed like a big adventure for a lot of riders. Now they’re starting to realise we’ll be fighting Thread for the rest of our lives. We’ll see more friends die or get hurt, more dragons going _between_. Do you really think either of us will see the end of this Pass?’

D’gar couldn’t lie to him. ‘Probably not, if I’m honest. So all you can do is make the most of life while you can.’ He wasn’t sure how to get M’rell out of this depression, apart from being there and letting him talk it through over a skin of wine. Much as M’rell had helped him through his grief when S’brin died. ‘Look, once Toth is healed, you’ll feel better. He might even win the next mating flight.’ If Toth was feeling content, M’rell would, too.

‘Pour us another, will you?’

D’gar did. ‘You should eat something, as well. Have a bun.’ It would help soak up some of the alcohol.

M’rell took one and sniffed it. ‘Smells good.’ He took a bite and chewed slowly.

‘So what happened with you and that kitchen lass?’

‘We had a row. She’s back with her old boyfriend.’

‘Ah.’ That was often the way with Lower Cavern women. They had their pick of dragonriders.

‘And I wasn’t even in with a chance with Kylara. She’s only interested in bronze riders, like F’drun.’

‘She chucked all his stuff out of her weyr yesterday.’

‘I heard.’

‘I wouldn’t wish Kylara on you anyway. She might be beautiful, but she’s a nasty piece of work.’ He had a sudden idea. ‘I know! We could throw another party in our weyr. H’rek’s got a friend in the laundry. I bet he could ask her to bring along a few friends.’

‘Like those parties you and S’brin used to hold?’

‘Something like that.’

He looked brighter. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

‘It’d be something to look forward to, at least.’ It wouldn’t take too much organisation. Maybe they could sort it out for the next rest day after Threadfall. ‘Right, well. I’d best get back. H’rek’s been to another meeting. And there’s supposed to be some more announcements about this southern project too.’

M’rell rolled his eyes. ‘How are they even going to find enough dragons for that?’

‘We’ve all been wondering the same. Still, it’s not a bad place and the fruit’s really tasty.’

‘I take it from that you’ve been there?’

‘H’rek took me. It’s a tropical paradise. Long, golden beaches, warm seas. The dragons loved it.’

‘We could do with a day on the beach. Maybe that’s what’s getting me down, the sharding weather here. Always grey and gloomy.’

D’gar had to agree. Fort’s weather was definitely preferable. ‘Once you’re allowed out again, I’ll show you the place. That is, if it’s not overrun by Benden dragons by then.’

‘Sounds great.’ M’rell held up the wine skin. ‘Better take the rest of this with you.’

‘No, you keep it. I’m not drinking much these days. See you at dinner, maybe?’

‘Sure.’

Out in the Bowl, a few dragons were on the wing. One of them looked like - yes, it was - Ryth. He didn’t seem to be having any difficulty flying, but then it wasn’t his wings that had been damaged. As long as F’drun made sure he landed carefully, he’d not do himself any further injury. Soon enough he’d be back with the Wing and then there’d be more problems to deal with.

_Take us to the dining hall. I’ll grab some lunch down there and see what’s happening._

It was still slightly early for lunch. Appetising smells were drifting in from the kitchen, but nothing had yet been brought through. D’gar poured himself some klah and sat on the bench by the night hearth, gazing into the flames. It was here that he’d first met H’rek, he mused. It seemed like a lifetime ago, although in truth it was just a couple of sevendays. So much had happened since then.

He was drawn back from his thoughts by the sound of multiple pairs of boot heels on the stone flags. It looked as if H’rek’s clutchmates meeting had finished. They were talking loudly and animatedly as they made their way to their usual table. D’gar spotted H’rek among them. He didn’t look happy at all; in fact he looked downright upset about something. D’gar got up and went over. ‘Anything wrong?’

H’rek glanced at the others briefly. ‘Let’s go over to your table.’

They took a couple of seats at the empty table usually occupied by R’feem’s Wing. ‘So?’ D’gar asked tentatively.

‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of them,’ he said, a touch bitterly. ‘They think it’s great news.’

‘What?’

‘We’re going to be sent down south again to help re-open the Weyr.’ He stared at the scarred table top.

D’gar reached out and clasped his nearest hand. ‘Not for too long, surely? What about Threadfall? Firestone deliveries and all that?’

‘They’ve thought it through pretty well. We’re being divided into two groups. One lot stays here, the other goes down south, on rotation. A month here, a month away. I’m in the first group to go.’

D’gar wasn’t sure what he could say. There certainly wasn’t anything he could do. ‘Well, that’s not so bad,’ he said at last. ‘At least it’s not permanent.’

‘I don’t want to leave you, though.’

‘I don’t want you to leave, either. But we’re dragonriders. We have to go where the Weyr sends us.’ If he was transferred back to Fort tomorrow, there wouldn’t be much he could do about it, either. ‘It won’t be so bad. I can come down to visit on our free days. They’ll have to give you time off as well.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Judging by what you’ve told me, you didn’t have a bad time down there before. Lots of lazing around on beaches, topping up your tan. All right for some.’ He tried to keep it light, even though something cold and heavy had settled near his heart.

‘You saw what it was like. There’ll be plenty of work, clearing all that foliage. And they want to encourage folk - Holders - to move there and settle too. It’s a long term project this time, not just for a few Turns.’

‘Well, you won’t get bored, that’s for sure.’ He thought of how empty the weyr would be without H’rek. ‘The time will fly.’

H’rek still looked as if someone had pulled out a rug from under his feet. ‘This is about the worst thing that could happen.’  
D’gar pushed his mug of klah across. ‘Drink this. I’ll get another one in a bit.’ He glanced across to the other table, where everyone seemed to be in high spirits. ‘So, who else are they sending?’ Fifteen or so youngsters wouldn’t be enough.

‘Well, T’bor and Kylara, obviously. And about half of T’bor’s Wing. The rest are going to be re-distributed to make up numbers.’

That made sense too. D’gar nodded, encouraging him to continue.

‘I think they’re going to send a few of Ramoth’s clutch too, as they’re familiar with the area. Plus some other spare riders. It comes to about fifty in total, they said.’

‘Not really enough for a working Weyr, but it would have to do. ‘Did they say when?’

‘Soon. In the next couple of days. Everything has to be ready by the time Prideth lays her eggs.’

Three months or so, then. ‘Well, once it’s all set up and they’ve another clutch on the sands, I expect they’ll bring you all back again.’ He tried to sound positive.

‘No one said anything about that. And ever since we heard I’ve been worrying about what will happen when Rioth’s ready to rise again? If Herebeth’s not there?’

‘Oh.’ He was only just coming to terms with the news and hadn’t even considered that aspect yet. ‘Well, how long was it between her rising the first and second time?’

H’rek thought about it. ‘Around three and a half months.’

‘So it’ll probably be about the same again.’ Although the heat and bright sunshine might trigger her early. ‘You must be more aware of the signs she’s getting close. You knew about it last time, didn’t you?’

‘Well, yes. But not exactly when, remember. She took me a bit by surprise that morning.’

‘It’s like that the first few times. Let’s work it out roughly.’ He counted on his fingers. ‘I reckon she’ll be ready towards the end of your second stint down south. I can make sure we’re there.’ It wasn’t quite so simple as that, of course. Who knew when Thread would fall on the southern continent? It probably wouldn’t synchronise with Benden’s Fall schedule. If he and Herebeth were fighting Thread when Rioth rose… Shard it! If the worst came to the worst, they’d have to time it.

H’rek looked slightly more relieved. ‘It’s still going to be tough. Not seeing you.’

‘I know. I’ll miss you, too.’ What had he just been saying earlier, to M’rell? About the way things could fall apart at any time. Well, now they had. ‘Maybe you should go over and join your clutchmates again.’

‘Why? I want to spend as much time as I can with you.’

‘Yes, but you don’t want to fall out with them. Not if you’ll be spending so much time together. Everyone needs friends.’ Or company, at least. There were probably only a few in his own Wing he’d want to socialise with, given the choice, but you had to try and keep on the right side of everyone you worked with. ‘Look, they’re bringing out the lunch stuff now. Grab yourself something to eat, then go and sit with them and pretend you’re looking forward to it as much as they seem to be. We can talk through all this later, back in our weyr.’


	24. New Wingmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Benden pairs join R'feem's Wing and D'gar is entrusted with training one of them.

‘So, the upshot is that around half of T’bor’s Wing will be going down south with him and the rest will be distributed among the remaining Wings, filling in the gaps where we have men or dragons out with injuries.’ R’feem paused to let the news sink in. He’d only just emerged from a Wingleader’s meeting and had summoned B’lin and D’gar to his weyr for a briefing. D’gar never remembered there being so many meetings at Fort. Maybe it was another modern thing, or just the way Benden operated.

When the official announcement had been made the previous evening they hadn’t gone into too much detail, simply stating what D’gar had already found out earlier from H’rek and mentioning that some of T’bor’s Wing would also be assisting with the clearance at Southern.

‘That means that as we currently have two spaces due to M’rell and F’drun’s dragons being injured, we’ll be having two Benden pairs joining us.’

‘How’s that going to work?’ B’lin asked. ‘Their dragons are so much larger. We’ll have to alter all the spacing. They won’t be able to turn as tightly, either.’

‘Actually, there’s less of a difference than you’d expect.’ D’gar hadn’t mentioned flying with F’nor but they’d probably assume he was making comparisons between Herebeth and Rioth. ‘The main issue we’ll have with anyone from Benden is the same as if we were bringing in weyrlings; lack of fighting experience. That can be overcome by drilling and training.’

R’feem gave him a nod. ‘My thoughts too. I’ve been asking for more integration and now we’ve got it, so the last thing we should do is to start complaining. Anyway, we wrangled it out this morning and I’ve managed to get us a blue and a brown. Would have preferred another blue or a green, really, but there weren’t enough to go around. Anyway, they’ll be joining us this afternoon when we fly over tomorrow’s Threadfall area.’

‘North of Bitra, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, then over the mountains and into Lemos. More forests, I’m afraid. Plus we’re on clean up duty afterwards with the ground crews.’

D’gar’s heart sank. Ground duty anywhere was bad, but among trees it could be a nightmare. ‘Anything else we should know?’

‘They’ll be embarking on this southern project the day after tomorrow. We may be asked to help ferry materials and people down there. In addition to Prideth’s clutch and T’bor’s Wing, they’re also sending some of the injured men and dragons. Dragons who can fly, obviously and men who are recuperating but able to handle light work.’ R’feem’s curt tone showed what he thought of that notion.

D’gar stared at the floor, not daring to say anything. Hopefully they would think it was another Benden idea.

B’lin spoke up. ‘They’re really scraping the barrel, aren’t they?’

‘Seems like it. But it’s the Weyrleader’s pet project so who are we to argue. Of course, it means we’ll be losing F’drun and M’rell for a time as both are deemed fit enough for the job.’

‘Is Ryth up to it?’ B’lin asked.

‘I saw him flying round the Bowl yesterday, so presumably, yes.’ D’gar’s mind was whirling. It was good to be rid of F’drun, at least for a while. But H’rek would be there too. F’drun knew he and H’rek were weyrmates. What might he do?’ H’rek had been distressed enough at the thought of separation; they’d spent most of the evening talking through it. More problems, just when it seemed life had settled into a smooth glide.

‘You seem concerned,’ R’feem said. Trust him to notice. ‘I’d have thought you’d have been glad to see F’drun safely away from here.’

‘Well, yes. Except that H’rek’s being sent too.’

‘Ah.’ R’feem gave a kindly smile. ‘They’ll be kept well occupied. I doubt F’drun will have any time for tricks. Anyway, your weyrmate is a sensible lad.’

D’gar didn’t quite understand his meaning. H’rek was certainly sensible enough to avoid F’drun, but if F’drun decided to target him in some way, then what could he do? No one had eyes in the back of their head. You couldn’t be on the alert all the time.

‘So we’ll meet up again at lunch. D’gar, would you take care of our new wingmates? You seem to have a way with Benden folk.’

‘Sure.’ What exactly did he mean by that? D’gar found himself getting edgy. Calm down, he told himself. He’s probably just referring to your relationship with H’rek.

‘Right. See you later,’ B’lin said. ‘Ondiath wants to eat.’

D’gar made to follow him out when R’feem stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘Try not to worry too much, eh?’

‘Well…’ It was easy to say, not so easy to do.

‘Being apart from someone is never pleasant.’ R’feem spoke from personal experience, as he only got the chance to visit his weyrmate at Fort around once every sevenday.

‘No. But I’ll be fine.’

‘Good. Wouldn’t want to see it affecting your work. You’re doing a good job as Wingsecond.’

He returned to his weyr, noticing that some of the Lower Caverns staff had already begun to pile up various pieces of kitchen equipment under one of the covered storage areas. They must be really fed up, he thought. It had only come back a short while ago.

He settled down to do some admin. R’feem had asked him to make a list of the number of injured men and dragons during each Threadfall over the last three Turns of the previous Pass. Apparently Benden were trying to make some estimates as to how many casualties they could expect over a Turn and thus work out how long it would be before they were self-sufficient again. At least they had two queen dragons of breeding age now. Even if Prideth’s next clutch contained a gold egg, it would be a good two to three Turns before the young dragon would be mature enough to rise. Still, if Prideth and Ramoth continued to lay large clutches the numbers would soon go up.

Strident shrieking from outside brought him out of his musing. It wasn’t Kylara again; even she couldn’t be that loud.

_What’s going on?_ he asked Herebeth.

_Two greens are about to rise. One of them thinks the other is trying to steal her suitors._

Greens weren’t usually jealous. That was more like gold behaviour. He got up, stretched and went to have a look.

The pair of dragons were scolding each other like fishwives. Several browns and blues were perched on the rim, waiting for them to decide to fly. Three of them were smaller and stockier than the rest. He recognised Lanralth from Igen. The other two were from W’lir’s Wing.

_Solarth and Zeylenth do not like each other. Their riders feel the same._ Herebeth sounded amused.

_Aren’t they clutchmates of Rioth?_

_That’s right. They were left behind this morning as they were too close to rising._

The noise echoed around the Bowl. Quite a few other dragons and their riders were peering from weyr openings to see what all the fuss was about. Even Ramoth’s great golden head emerged from her weyr, with the diminutive figure of Lessa alongside. Evidently, their racket disturbed the Weyrwoman and her dragon, for Ramoth clearly ordered the argument to cease. Both greens fell silent, shaking their heads from the intensity of the command issued by the queen. Then, after a few moments, one took off, followed by a flurry of male dragons. The other waited, clearly not of her own volition, until Ramoth released her and she also took to the sky with more suitors in hot pursuit. The normal sounds of the Weyr resumed, while the waiting riders dashed into the flight cave.

D’gar went back inside, wondering if Lanralth would catch one of the Benden greens. If he did, they’d be a pair down this afternoon, which would mean more shuffling about to balance the Wing dragons.

He returned to the desk. After all the hubbub, the weyr seemed very quiet. It was no different than on any other day when he’d been working alone, yet this morning the silence seemed to foreshadow all the future days when he’d not be interrupted by the scrape of talons as Rioth landed on the ledge, or H’rek returned from a drill or patrol. How quickly he’d become used to sharing a weyr again and having H’rek in his life.

Why had he even come up with that stupid idea about sending the injured men down south to help out? Given a bit of thought, he might have guessed they would also send Prideth’s first clutch back to the place they were so familiar with. Now, all he had managed to achieve was to put a source of potential danger in H’rek’s way. If anything happened, he would be to blame.

_Why do you worry so much? Rioth will look after him._

_If only I could share your confidence._ Rioth couldn’t be there all the time. What if F’drun lured H’rek into that jungle? Who knows what creatures might be lurking, ready to pounce on the unwary? Yes, but H’rek had managed to stay alive there for nearly two Turns. He’d be more attuned to its dangers. It was much more likely that F’drun would get attacked if he tried something like that.

Poison, then. His imagination provided images of F’drun slipping some noxious substance into H’rek’s klah when he wasn’t looking. The sensible part of his mind knew that this was extremely unlikely but that didn’t stop him worrying. He’d worry every day until H’rek returned safe and sound. The only way to cope would be to deal with it the same way he always did; to immerse himself in work.

He met the rest of the Wing in the dining hall, snatching a couple of meat rolls and a mug of klah. He could have got the same delivered to the weyr, but R’feem liked the Wing to eat together whenever possible. Today, everyone was there; F’drun included, although he made a point to avoid any eye contact with D’gar. M’rell, however, didn’t. He sat down in the next space and immediately began telling D’gar how crazy it was that he was about to be sent to the southern wilderness.

‘You were only saying yesterday you fancied some sunshine and sea. There’s plenty of that down south.’

‘Yes, but from what I’ve heard it’s more likely they’ll have us hacking down trees and clearing greenery.’

‘Toth will be able to enjoy lounging around in the ocean.’

‘Well, I suppose there is that,’ he conceded grudgingly. ‘Wish I knew who’d come up with such a stupid idea though. I’d give him a piece of my mind.’

‘Blame the Benden lot for that.’ Hypocrite, he thought, even as he spoke. ‘Still, might not be so bad. They can’t work you non-stop so you’re bound to get some time to yourself. And it really is a beautiful beach.’

Just then, R’feem beckoned him over, enabling him to avoid any further questions. Beside him were two riders wearing Benden shoulder knots. ‘Thought I’d introduce you to our new wing riders. M’ten of brown Gimelth and N’bras of blue Genlorth.’

N’bras looked familiar. He wasn’t much older than H’rek. ‘Have we met before?’ D’gar asked, trying to place him.

‘In the infirmary,’ he supplied. ‘You got my weyrmate down from his dragon when he was injured.’

Ah, that was it. ‘How is he?’

‘Still weak, but on the mend.’

‘Good to hear that. And glad you’re joining our Wing.’

M’ten was a lot older, probably nearer to R’feem’s age. They shook hands briefly.

‘Well, if you’d like to take N’bras under your wing, so to speak, I’ll let B’lin look after M’ten,’ R’feem said.

‘Fine.’ D’gar led N’bras back to his end of the table, where M’rell was loudly complaining to V’chal and J’rud about his new posting.

N’bras seemed shy, or maybe he was just overwhelmed to have landed among a whole load of unfamiliar riders. D’gar did his best to make him feel at ease, introducing him to those closest. V’chal latched on to him at once; he always did when someone new joined the Wing.

‘He’s got a weyrmate, you know.’ D’gar thought he should point that out to forestall any unwanted attention.

‘Really?’ V’chal said. ‘It doesn’t do to settle down too young, you know,’ he told N’bras. ‘Good looking young man like you should keep your options open. You never know what might come along.’

‘Like you, you mean.’ J’rud commented. ‘Lilith’s not even proddy so you’ve no excuse. Talking of which, did you hear those two greens this morning?’

‘Oh, that was Solarth and Zeylenth,’ N’bras said. ‘They hate each other.’

‘My dragon said that too.’ D’gar thought it might encourage him to talk. ‘Any idea why?’

‘Well, when we were down south, they both took a shine to Izaeth. But he didn’t chase either of them. And he flew an old timer green when Prideth rose this time, so he definitely wouldn’t have been interested today.’

D’gar noticed how everyone reacted to the unwanted name. ‘Er, you might want to change your terminology now you’ll be flying with us. We’re not fond of being called “old timers”.’

‘Yeah.’ J’rud said. ‘Makes it sound like we’re all ancient. I’m only twenty-three and so is D’gar here. V’chal might be pushing it a bit, but he’s not decrepit yet.’

V’chal made a face at that.

‘So, what do you call yourselves, then?’

‘We tend to refer to ourselves by the name of the Weyr we’re from. So us lot are Fort riders.’ M’rell pointed across the table. ‘They’re from Igen and those at the end are from High Reaches. You can easily tell who’s from where from our shoulder knots.’

‘Collectively we say we’re from the five Weyrs,’ D’gar added helpfully.

‘Five Weyrs,’ N’bras said. ‘That’s short enough. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just what everyone here says.’

‘Not a problem.’ J’rud said. ‘If you didn’t know.’

‘So, er, how long have you all been fighting Thread?’

‘Five Turns for J’rud and myself. We graduated to the Wings at the same time.’ It seemed far longer, D’gar thought.

‘Eight Turns,’ said V’chal at almost the same time as M’rell said, ‘Nearly six.’

‘Five Falls,’ N’bras said with a wry shrug. ‘So I’m still new to it all. It doesn’t really compare to the exercises we practised when we were weyrlings.’

‘No.’ J’rud grinned wickedly. ‘Bits of wool or whatever won’t eat you alive.’

N’bras seemed uncomfortable, D’gar thought. ‘Steady, lads. His weyrmate was injured quite badly recently.’

‘Sorry about that,’ J’rud offered.

‘You couldn’t have known. It was a shock, though. We’re in different Wings so I didn’t even know anything was wrong until afterwards.’

‘That’s for the best,’ M’rell said, very matter of factly. ‘You don’t want to find out someone you care about has copped it in the middle of Fall. Very distracting.’

‘Even when you are in the same Wing, you don’t always find out until later.’ D’gar spoke from experience. ‘Especially if visibility is poor.’ He could tell by his wingmates expressions they knew exactly which incident he was referring to.

‘And we lost so many that day, you’d no way of telling it was him.’ M’rell shook his head sadly. ‘Bad one, that.’

‘Right. I’m going to get a refill of klah.’ D’gar got up from the table. That way they could fill in the rest of the gruesome tale to a puzzled looking N’bras while he was out of the way. It reminded him of the stories he and F’drun had swapped on the day they were on support duty, when they had been winding up T’sum. Doubtless M’ten would be getting a similar initiation with the Igen riders. In a few Turns, weyrlings joining the Benden Wings would go through the same treatment, as he and S’brin had done when they graduated to R’feem’s Wing. Part of the process, really.

By the time he returned, they’d moved on to some other Threadfall tales. ‘…so the only thing they could do was to take his whole leg off.’ J’rud finished.

‘That old one.’ D’gar sat back down.

‘Is it true?’ N’bras asked.

D’gar sipped his klah. ‘They’re trying to shock you.’ And judging by his expression, succeeding. ‘But it's all happened at one time or another.’

At the far end of the table, R’feem had finished. On his way out he tapped D’gar’s shoulder. ‘Give everyone time to digest their food, then get them to form up.’

‘Sure.’

‘Do we have an inspection?’ N’bras asked. ’T’bor was never that bothered but I know R’gul’s Wing do.’

‘Inspection of what?’ V’chal asked.

‘Well, to see if everything’s in order.’

‘That’s up to you. Check your own straps before every flight and make sure you have everything you’ll need, whether it’s for Fall or a routine patrol. If anything extra’s wanted, one of us will pass the information on.’ D’gar thought he should fill in a bit more while he drank his klah. ‘Now I don’t know how T’bor co-ordinated Fall, but I can tell you how we do it.’

N’bras nodded eagerly. The others got up to leave; they’d heard all this before. ‘See you later,’ M’rell said.

‘We usually fly in a standard V formation for take off and when we go between. Once R’feem’s been to the Wingleader’s meeting and heard the weather report, he’ll decide what patterns we’ll fly during Fall although once we’re up there, it’ll sometimes change. Depends on conditions, the way Thread’s falling and the like. Usually, Piroth gives the instruction to Herebeth and Ondiath, then we’ll pass it along to the dragons in our section. Same with firestone replacement. Once you’re down to your last bag, you’ll get - Genlorth, is it?’

He nodded.

‘…to inform Herebeth. I’ll co-ordinate supplies and let you know when they’re on the way. Any problems, let me know. In the air we’ll use standard hand signals, unless the visibility is really low, when it’ll all be down to dragons passing along messages. You’ll be alongside me today so I can see how you’re flying. We do tend to keep a tighter formation than most of the Benden Wings, I’ve noticed.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Less Thread gets through. Plus, if everyone knows exactly what they’re going for, there’s less chance of flaming each other by accident. You’ll have a fair idea by now of how big a clump Genlorth can destroy on his own.’

‘Sure.’

‘So if it’s larger than that, leave it to me, or one of the other browns or bronzes. Your job is to get rid of anything we’d find hard to reach. That’s why we usually fly a brown or bronze flanked by a blue and green. Sometimes two greens or two blues, depending on what’s available. They can turn on a pin and get to stuff that we’d struggle to manage.’

His eyes were starting to glaze over from too much information.

‘It sounds more complicated than it is. Don’t fret too much. It’ll become obvious once we’re flying.’

‘I just don’t want to mess up.’

‘After five Falls? Everyone messes up. That’s how you learn.’ So long as it doesn’t kill you and your dragon, he added silently. ‘Anyway, it’s just a routine patrol today, to familiarise ourselves with the area. You’ll get an idea how we fly and if there are any problems, I’ll let you know.’ He finished his klah. ‘Right, I’m off now. See you soon. We’ll be forming up on the landing area.’

Back in the weyr, he checked over the fighting straps, remembering the nervousness of being new to the Wings. Worrying about making some stupid mistake and having everyone laugh at you was almost worse than the natural fear of being eaten by Thread. He’d thrown up before almost every patrol for the first sevenday. Threadfall had been so much more chaotic than he’d imagined, too; a very long way from the disciplined exercises they’d practiced with the Weyrlingmaster. They’d been delivering replacement firestone for a good half a Turn before graduating, so they’d seen Thread up close, but even that didn’t prepare you entirely for being in the thick of it.

_We have a new wingmate today,_ he told Herebeth. _Watch out for Genlorth and if you notice anything off that I don’t, let him know._

_Will do._ Herebeth crouched to let him slip on the neck strap. _I think the strap on my right side needs loosening. It feels a little too tight._

_You’re getting fat._

_I am not fat. That’s muscle. I had lost some when we were not fighting Thread._

_Me too. Now I’ll be getting back into shape again._ The exercise helped. H’rek would probably put on some muscle too, if he ended up doing a lot of physical work down in Southern.

_Will Rioth be away for long?_ Herebeth queried. _Why must she leave?_

_She’s being sent to her old Weyr. Only for a short while, though._

_I will miss her._

_And I’ll miss H’rek. But they’ll be back again._ Putting on a brave face for his dragon helped to bring it into perspective. It was a temporary disruption, that’s all.

With Herebeth ready, he went to get his wherhide gear. He needed some new gloves, he remembered, one of his having been damaged by a close encounter with partially drowned thread two Falls ago. He kept forgetting about that until he needed them again. Well, there was no time to deal with that now, but later on he’d go to the stores and get another pair.

By the time he got down to the landing area, a few of the Wing had assembled, the Benden pairs among them. Keen to impress, he thought. Genlorth was a lightweight blue. He looked as if he would be speedy, D’gar thought, although maybe lacking in stamina. By contrast, Gimelth was a fairly stocky brown by modern standards; smaller than Canth but still towering above Herebeth.

‘Do you know the area we’re flying today?’ he asked M’ten. Although he’d been in Southern with T’bor, his age meant that he must have Impressed and trained at Benden.

M’ten nodded. ‘It’s hilly, the Bitra side. Rough pastures mostly, lots of ovines and caprines. A few isolated farm holds. Then once we cross the mountain range into Lemos, it’s coniferous forest for kilometres with a couple of logging camps. The men there are pretty good ground crew.’

‘Excellent. Can you get a dragon down to land easily?’

‘Some of it, where the trees aren’t too close.’

‘Better not let any Thread through, then.’

More dragons were arriving. Today, the full complement would be flying; all of the blues and greens who would take shifts during Threadfall proper; twenty-six dragons in all. Normally, no one bothered to watch them assemble, but today there were a few onlookers, possibly due to the presence of the Benden dragons.

R’feem noticed too. ‘We’ve got an audience,’ he said as he passed. ‘Let’s keep a tight formation taking off and show them what we can do.’

‘Sure.’ How long would it take before they were regarded as just another Wing, not some sort of novelty act, like the jugglers or acrobats you saw at a Gather?

They did take off fairly smoothly and the transfer _between_ was faultless, but as soon as they started to try out a few manoeuvres; direction changes and formation re-shuffles, the Benden dragons began to show their inexperience. The whole Wing had been a little ragged when they first got together, but after all the practice, they now flew fairly seamlessly. For the two Benden riders, the style of flying was different enough that they ended up either ahead or behind the moves. D’gar had always thought of formation flying as being something like dancing in the air and if that was the case, the Benden pair would be treading on their partner’s toes. At this stage, he wasn’t going to be too hard on N’bras, but they’d need to do some more flying together so that he could better explain exactly what they were aiming for in the various moves.

When they started to simulate actual Threadfall moves; breaking from the pattern to chase down clumps then getting back into position, it fell apart even more.

_Ask Piroth if we can break away and practice some moves alone._

Herebeth came back almost right away. _Once we’ve gone over the area, you can do whatever you need. Piroth’s rider suggests both the Benden dragons join you._

_Tell him we’ll do that._

After that, they flew mostly straight, picking out reference points in the landscape and noting the transition between land that needed protecting and the rocky parts where it would do no harm for Thread to fall unchecked. The forests were vast, D’gar noticed, with a sinking heart. Was the entire Hold covered in trees these days? There were cleared areas too, where mature trees had been felled by loggers, a couple of camps and a sawmill beside a fast-flowing river, where a water wheel provided the driving power for the machinery. Even so high up, the smell of cut wood and fresh sap reached his nose.

Finally, R’feem gave the order to return to the Weyr and the rest of the Wing flew on, disappearing _between_ , leaving just the four of them to practice the drills.

_Tell Ondiath we will practise the Threadfighting moves._ In his case, he had N’bras and Genlorth break away then return to position. For the other pair, Ondiath played the blue’s role, relying on M’ten to be aware where in the sky he would be coming back. It was obvious that both Benden dragons, while keen, were used to the more informal style of fighting Thread used by their Wing; well, they’d soon get out of that. They’d probably find the more disciplined method left both themselves and their dragons less tired by the end of a Fall once they became used to it.

By the time he was back at the Weyr, he felt drained. Not so much from the physical effort as from having to watch and correct N’bras. During Threadfall, you had to be conscious not just of yourself, but of all the other pairs in the section. D’gar had never before realised how much you relied on others knowing their own roles and positions. He remembered when he’d been new to the Wing and his own mentor, I’grast, had taught him all the moves and kept an eye on him through those first few Falls. How patient he’d been. How effortless he’d made it seem. Now he appreciated the work that had gone in to training someone just out of the weyrling Wing to ensure he and his dragon became effective fighters.

‘I was rubbish,’ N’breast sounded disconsolate as they dismounted from their dragons. When he removed his flying hat, his hair was plastered down with sweat.

‘You weren’t any worse than I was when I joined the Wing. Don’t worry. You’ll soon get the hang of it. What we’ll do tomorrow is put you in for an hour or so, then do a swap out.’ After that amount of time, they’d be too tired to learn any more. ‘Then over the next few Falls we’ll keep you up there for longer until you’re both accustomed to flying our way.’

‘So, is how I’ve been taught wrong, then?’

‘Not wrong, exactly. Just not so effective. Remember, we’ve been doing this for fifty Turns. I expect when the Eighth Pass first started, we were just the same.’ Full of enthusiasm, but short on technique. ‘Remember, the object is to sear Thread with the least amount of effort, the maximum efficiency and without getting yourself or your dragon scored. No-one learns all that overnight.’


	25. Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise during Threadfall, when R'feem's Wing are assigned to clean-up duty over a forested area.

‘Thread’s definitely been falling down south.’ H’rek had returned to their weyr, tired and grubby from his reconnaissance trip. ‘We’d been sent to track down herdbeasts that had escaped from the plateau and we landed close to this watering hole. There was a carcass there; well, half of one, to be precise. Looked like the poor beast had been caught by Thread but managed to get itself into the water before it was totally devoured. Strange thing was, there were quite a few bushes around the shore, but they’d not been touched.’

‘Maybe the beast had dragged itself a fair way before it collapsed and died?’ D’gar suggested. ‘Or maybe it only got caught by the trailing edge of Fall?’

‘It’s a possibility. But then, why was it only only half-consumed? Thread doesn’t stop once it begins to feed unless it’s drowned or you can get _between_ to freeze it. So, unless herd beasts have independently developed the ability, I don’t see how that would work.’

‘No, you’re right. It’s a mystery. Going to make things a bit trickier, isn’t it? I mean, you aren’t going to be able to live out in the open if Thread falls as regularly and heavily as it does here.’

’T’bor thinks we can. As long as we have enough dragons to fly Fall above the Weyr and the Hold itself we should be all right. Trouble is, we don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, so we’ll need to keep watch all the time until we figure out the pattern.’

D’gar thought it sounded unnecessarily risky. Long ingrained instinct told him that the only safe place to be when Thread fell was under cover of stone or on the back of a flaming dragon. ’What about firestone?’

‘One of the other groups found a large deposit that can be mined. The Holders will do that for us.’

‘If they can even find anyone crazy enough to go along.’

‘Apparently, they already have. Some of those who were along as support when we were there before are keen to go back; get themselves some land of their own to hold. A few fisherfolk are interested, too.’

‘Rather them than me. Look, you will be careful, won’t you?’ Everything about this project seemed ill-advised and potentially dangerous.

‘Rioth will look after me.’ He sounded very confident. ‘Anyway, the best news is that we won’t be there full time for the first sevenday or so. Not until we’ve cleared enough ground and got some shelters up. Plus, T’bor wants to be certain we don’t get caught out by Threadfall, so only a few pairs will be staying overnight, at least initially.’

‘Well, that’s something.’

‘The time zone is almost the same, so going back and forth won’t be a problem. We’ll leave each morning after breakfast and return in the evenings. So at least I’ll be spending some of the time here. Anyway, how did your day go?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Not too bad considering I have to babysit a Benden pair through the next few Falls. And we’re on clean up duty in a sharding forest. What’s happening with you during Fall tomorrow?’

‘We’re off south again. The other group will be on supply duty to see how it works out with fewer dragons.’

‘Great. Let’s hope we don’t run out of firestone over all those trees. Although maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. There are far too many of them as it is.’

H’rek looked slightly shocked. ‘You don’t mean that?’

‘Why not? We’re supposed to protect people, beasts and crops, not unnecessary swathes of woodland. Folk managed without all that timber in the past. I’m sure the Lord Holder is concerned for his profits, but when it comes down to it, you can’t eat trees.’

‘So you’d rather just burn them like Fort did to Hivall’s orchard?’ H’rek’s tone was sharp.

D’gar felt a need to defend his home Weyr’s riders. ’If that wasn’t an exaggeration. We only heard one side of the story.’

‘My family don’t lie.’

‘And my weyrfolk don’t do things without good reason. If your uncle -'

‘My father,’ H’rek corrected.

‘Ah.’ So that was why he was so defensive. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know. So he was the one…’

‘Who looked after the farm. And, apparently, my mother.’

‘Still a holder, though. I’d take weyrfolks word over holders any day.’ H’rek was bound to side with the people who had raised him. Didn’t mean it was right, though.

‘Weyrfolk aren’t perfect, either. You’ve said so yourself. Impressing a dragon doesn’t make someone a better person.’

‘Well, no.’ He did have a point there. D’gar wouldn’t necessarily trust, say, F’drun’s word over a holder’s. But it was the principle of the thing.

‘You wouldn’t do something like that, anyway.’ H’rek seemed determined to push the issue.

‘How do you know?’ He remembered the encounter with those obnoxious fisherfolk, just after they arrived. ‘Holders have to respect dragonriders. Give us what we’re due. I heard about F’lar seizing all the Lord Holders' wives when they turned up outside this Weyr with unreasonable demands. Should he have just let them walk all over him?’

‘Of course not.’ H’rek conceded. ‘But that’s different. They forced his hand. They were the aggressors in that instance.’

‘Well, if your uncle - sorry, father - had just given those dragonriders a few beasts, they’d have let their dragons feed and gone on their way. No harm done.’

H’rek shook his head. ‘My father gives his portion of the tithe to his Lord and he sends it to the Weyr. They’ve no right to ask for extra, as and when they feel like it. It might have been the way things worked in the past, but this is now.’ He sighed. ‘I thought you understood all that.’

D’gar didn’t want to argue with him, but he didn’t want to give in either. ‘I understand about four hundred Turns without Thread and people not wanting to believe it would come back. I understand about modern folks’ attitudes to the Weyr, before the Pass began. But now they need our protection and they should be as generous as they were in the past. We risk our lives for them while they hide behind stone walls.’

‘And I’m sure they appreciate that. Doesn’t mean they should have to grovel and give in to every whim. Someone told me that there have been a few instances of dragonriders demanding things that definitely don’t come under the remit of tithes. Craft items; jewellery and such.’

‘And…?’ In the past, if a dragonrider admired an item, craftsmen would always gift it to them.

‘Well, that’s plain wrong. It’s no better than stealing. No-one from Benden would even think of doing it. But you folk -‘

‘Us “old timers”. Is that what you were going to say?’ He really didn’t like the way this was going.

‘No,’ H’rek protested. ‘I don’t like that name either.’

D’gar felt irritated. ‘Have they been filling your head with nonsense all day today?’

‘We’ve just been talking, that’s all. And it made me think. When we were at Fort and I was chatting to those green riders they said some things I didn’t really agree with.’

‘You didn’t say anything when we got back.’

‘I didn’t want to upset you.’

‘And you do now?’

‘No! Just -‘ He broke off. ‘This is stupid. I don’t want to argue with you. I’m tired. You’re fed up. Why don’t we leave it?’

D’gar didn’t feel like leaving it. It was important that H’rek understood why he felt the way he did. Why Benden weren’t right about everything. ‘Not everything is black and white,’ he said. ‘Not all change is for the good. It’s about time these modern Holders realised what they owe us. We didn’t ask to come forward, so why should it be us who have to accept the way things are these days?’

H’rek shook his head. ‘If you think someone’s been filling my head with nonsense, I could ask the same of you.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘Shells! I’ve had enough of this. I’m off to find better company.’

‘What, your wingmates? You can’t even stand being with them most of the time?’

‘Why not? Maybe they’re right about you. Maybe I shouldn’t be hanging around with someone who’s four hundred Turns old and has his mind stuck in the past.’

‘Fine then.’ Even as he said the words and he watched H’rek walk out of their weyr, he wanted to call him back. This was stupid, trivial, unnecessary. And yet, it wasn’t right to just shut up for the sake of keeping the peace.

_Why is Rioth leaving?_ Herebeth sounded bemused. _They only just returned._

_We disagreed. He’ll be back soon._ At least, he hoped they would. In all probability H’rek would go and get some food in the dining hall, have a think about the situation and return in time for bed.

_Why did you disagree?_

Not his dragon as well. _It’s complicated._

_Humans always are. Rioth is puzzled too. She does not understand why H’rek is upset._

Oh, so he was upset, then. Mind you, D’gar didn’t exactly feel happy himself. It had been the wrong time to start talking about such a complex subject. H’rek was already worried about the southern venture. Was it any surprise his normally placid temperament had been ruffled? He’d not wanted them to be apart and now D’gar’s stubbornness had caused the very thing they both wanted to avoid. ‘Stupid, stupid,’ he muttered to himself.

For a long while, he sat there in the darkening weyr. He should uncover the glow baskets, he knew. Yet, what was the point? The gloom surrounding him was a perfect reflection of his mood. It was the first time he’d had any sort of argument with H’rek. They seemed to agree on most things and when they didn’t, they generally skirted around the topic. Except tonight, he’d been feeling irritable so he’d decided to push it.

He should go down to the dining hall himself and get something to eat. But if H’rek was there, if he’d said something to his clutchmates… D’gar imagined the glances, the muttered comments.

_Piroth asks me to ask you if you will be joining the Wing tonight._ Herebeth passed on the message.

_Tell him we’ll be there shortly._ Two could play at that game. He’d go down as if nothing had happened. Have a few drinks. Show them all it didn’t matter.

He woke early the next morning, alone. H’rek hadn’t even glanced his way once, just carried on laughing and talking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. For his part, D’gar had made a point of looking as if he was having an equally good time with his wingmates. The laughter had been forced, but no-one seemed to notice the difference. He’d expected H’rek to come back at some point, but he hadn’t.

D’gar wondered where he’d spent the night. In someone else’s weyr, obviously. He could ask Herebeth to ask Rioth, but he didn’t really want to know the answer.

Thankfully, he’d not drunk too much the previous night, although his churning stomach knew it was Threadfall and was even more aware they’d be on ground duty. Sharding trees! Sharding Holders! If there was a burrow, they’d burn the whole area, rather than risk a dragon and rider investigating. That was how it should be done and damn Benden if they didn’t like it.

By the time he went down for breakfast, the youngsters had already flown off down south. He had the inevitable klah and porridge, which he couldn’t finish. Listened to J’rud’s usual jokes, rolled out now for a new audience. Met up with R’feem and B’lin for a summary of the weather report and expected conditions. Light drizzle and showers. Oh joy! Rain, woods and cloud. It was shaping up to be a shitty day.

‘I’m on support duty again,’ M’rell sighed. ‘And with F’drun. He’s a miserable sod, isn’t he?’

‘Did he wind up the Benden lot last time, telling them gruesome Threadfall stories?’

M’rell shook his head. ‘No. Just sat off on his own with Ryth, except when he was called over to do some work. T’sum’s not a bad sort, though. Had a bit of a laugh with him.’

‘Well, have a good one.’

‘You too.’

N’bras looked nervous. ‘Cheer up,’ D’gar said. ‘It could be worse.’

‘What?’

‘You’re flying with a decent Wing today. We’ll be fine.’ He knew he sounded much more confident than he felt. Herebeth crunched through his supply of firestone and he checked the straps for the last time before mounting up. Once on board, he glanced over towards the assembling Queens’ Wing but of course Rioth wasn’t there. They’d already left for the south. At least H’rek was well away from this one, he thought with a certain degree of relief.

There was no rain yet over Benden Weyr. The sky was a light, milky grey with occasional glimpses of the sun as it struggled to break through. Initially, there was none over Bitra, either, although the cloud cover was thicker and darker. Lower too, shrouding some of the peaks.

_Piroth confirms V formations,_ Herebeth said. At the pre-Fall meeting, R’feem had been told they would be flying the middle levels with two Benden Wings above. In the murk, D’gar only occasionally caught a flash of colour from the dragons in the upper levels. The low cloud partly obscured even those below and only allowed glimpses of the rough terrain dotted with grazing beasts and partitioned by stone walls.

_Thread falls,_ Herebeth announced.

D’gar looked up again, seeing bright gouts of flame amid the grey. He knew that in such poor visibility, the Wings above would be straining to see Thread, so more would get through than in better conditions. He glanced along his section; at the moment, five dragons were visible, although they were in and out of the cloud. _Tell our section to be ready and to be sure to keep a good distance between each other in this._ That last was more for the benefit of N’bras. The experienced riders knew the necessity for keeping apart when visibility was limited; well clear of a flaming dragon.

The first Thread started to descend; hard to pick out as was always the case in cloud. It seemed to be falling in patchy clumps today. _I will take this one,_ Herebeth announced, going for a partially charred and writhing bunch of Thread, then neatly slotting back into line once it was destroyed. N’bras and Genlorth took out a smaller patch, maybe using a bit more flame than was necessary, but it was well done and they came back to their positions quickly.

All along the line dragons were flaming and the air soon began to thicken with char. Moisture made it stick to everything; hide, clothing and faces. Black, stinking, foul stuff. Dodging in and out of cloud, having to keep a watch both for Thread and for how Genlorth was flying, made the time pass quickly. They’d covered a good deal of ground and seared a fair amount of Thread when the accident happened.

_Zurinth’s rider is scored. So is Zurinth._

_How badly?_ As was often the way during Fall, D’gar hadn’t seen it.

_They still fly and return to the Weyr._

_Good._ There was nothing else to be done. Losing concentration through worrying about a friend and his dragon was a sure way to end up on the casualty list yourself. He put it to the back of his mind and carried on with the job. Genlorth had started off tidily, but was finding it harder to keep with the formation as Thread fell more thickly. The upper levels weren’t doing a bad job, but they couldn’t catch everything and what they didn’t sear twisted erratically in the disturbed air. Herebeth went for one clump to his right, while Genlorth flew higher to catch another. Typical Benden tactic, D’gar thought, rising unnecessarily to meet what would fall closer to you if you gave it a few more moments. He made a mental note to tell N’bras about that in the after-Fall meeting, leavened, of course, with praise for what he’d done right. He wasn’t doing too badly, for a novice -

The thought was cut off by a sudden glimpse from the corner of his eye of a blue hide just above him, descending rapidly. Herebeth spotted it too and blinked _between_ although not before something caught D’gar hard on the right shoulder. Not Thread; it was too heavy for that. The fighting straps strained, but held him in place. They re-emerged in line; Herebeth had a good sense of his surroundings and nearly always brought them back to the correct place. Genlorth was still far too close. He could see the expression of horror on N’bras’s face.

_Tell him to sharding well be more careful next time. They nearly took us out._ At least they’d not been flaming at the time or it could have been much worse. D’gar’s right arm felt slightly tingly and his shoulder throbbed. It still worked though.

_You are hurt?_

_Yes, but I’ll live. We’ll carry on._ He was still able to pick up a chunk of firestone and throw it to Herebeth’s waiting jaws, so the injury wasn’t too bad. As the Fall continued, though, it became a dull ache that intensified with each movement. He nearly dropped one of the replacement sacks that was thrown to him and his fingers fumbled as he struggled to secure it to the straps.

Half way through, he sent N’bras back to the Weyr, along with a couple of greens and was relieved when V’chal and Lilith took his place. They were across the mountains by then; the cloud had thickened and the damp turned to a thin but consistent drizzle. Down below now were the tops of trees, dark and dismal as the skies, the Queens’ Wing skimming just above them to try and stop any remaining Thread from getting among those close-packed conifers.

The rain made the last part of Fall even more miserable. Towards the end, when water had trickled half way down his back and his shoulder was starting to protest still further at each sudden move Herebeth made, there was a death.

_Not in our Wing._ Herebeth sounded relieved yet sad. _Pralonth from Benden._

He put it to the back of his mind. _Piroth tells us we are needed to search for Thread below. The men have lit a fire. Ramoth sends me the co-ordinates. Lilith’s rider has brought sounding rods. Take one other, too._

Just what he needed to end a perfect day. As the trailing edge cleared - but the rain didn’t - he instructed V’chal and G’reden to assist and they made their way back to a poky clearing where a fire burned smokily through foliage. There was just enough room for the three of them to land.

‘Good job we don’t have Benden-sized dragons,’ G’reden commented. ‘You’d only fit two of them down here.’

A man stood over to one side. ‘This way,’ he called, beckoning them over.

‘Any chance of getting a dragon in?’ D’gar asked, just because he should, not that he expected to hear the preferred answer.

The man shook his head grimly. ‘Not a chance. Trees are too close.’

‘We could get the dragons to pull up a few from above,’ V’chal suggested.

D’gar saw the pained expression on the man’s face at the suggestion. ‘Lord Gedenase wouldn’t like that.’

‘He’d like it even less if this whole area was eaten by Thread, wouldn’t he?’ D’gar snapped. Jumping off Herebeth had jarred his shoulder and it hurt as badly now as when the accident first happened. Maybe worse, now that he wasn’t thinking about spotting Thread all the time. He sighed. ‘Let’s have a look, then.’

They followed him along a narrow, winding track. Water dripped from the overhanging branches onto the needle-covered ground. It felt spongy, unstable. No chance of securing a line to your dragon if you couldn’t even get a dragon in here. They would have to be very careful.

_Might need you to uproot some trees,_ he sent to Herebeth. _Hope you’re feeling strong._

_I do not like you to be on the ground without me when there is Thread around._

_Me neither._

They walked for several hundred metres.. D’gar wasn’t sure he’d find his way back alone; a number of tracks criss-crossed and everywhere looked exactly the same.

‘I don’t like this much,’ V’chal said, voicing exactly what D’gar was thinking. ‘How much further?’

‘Couple of minutes. You’ll see it soon enough.’ The woodsman plodded on. ‘We’ve a couple of fellows already there and two more on the way.’

‘I’m hoping you have a flamethrower handy as we can’t get a dragon in.’ Otherwise someone would have to go back to the Weyr to fetch one, wasting more time, while beneath the ground Thread devoured roots and other organic matter, spreading rapidly.

‘Aye. Tafraun has one.’

‘Good.’ D’gar hoped it had plenty of fuel at this end of the Fall. Last thing they wanted was to expose a burrow and have no way of destroying the stuff.

When they reached the site, it was obvious what had happened. The clump had eaten its way down from the canopy to the ground, clearing branches all down one side of a tree. Where it had landed, smoking holes showed the points at which it had gone underground. A young man was standing, peering down at one and poking it with a stick.

‘Hey!’ D’gar called. ‘Get back from there.’

The lad looked up with a puzzled expression. ‘Eh? Why?’

‘You want to get eaten? That ground could collapse under you at any moment.’ He - and the other dragonriders - kept well back. There was no way of telling how far the stuff had spread under the surface from above.

‘You heard him,’ said the man who’d been their guide. ‘Get back. Dragonriders know more about Thread than you do.’

‘Right. Where’s the flamethrower?’

‘Over there.’

It had been cast down in a heap beside one of the trees. D’gar didn’t know if it was one of those they’d brought with them, or whether it had been made in modern times, but it certainly looked four hundred Turns old. It was covered in muck and the wand was battered.

V’chal had unpacked some metal rods and was busy screwing them together. He began poking the ground gingerly to one side of the burrow. ‘Something down here,’ he called, backing up.

‘What’s he doing?’

‘Checking to see how far it’s got. We need to dig near the edge, so we can get to it but it can’t get us. You have shovels?’

‘Aye.’

‘Right. Go get them. V’chal will show you where to start. If he says stop, you stop right away. Got that?’

They all nodded. D’gar was pleased to see they looked suitably frightened. Last thing you needed when uncovering something like this was people with more bravado than common sense. He went over to check out the flamethrower. There seemed to be plenty of fuel in the tank, judging by the weight and the sloshing sound when he lifted it. He turned away from the men and pressed the trigger. No flame came out. He tried a second time, but he could tell there was a problem. The trigger just didn’t feel right. ‘Has this thing actually been working today?’ he asked.

‘Er, no. Well, it worked first off but then it just stopped.’

‘Great.’

‘You want me to go back for one?’ G’reden asked. ‘Or I could get Jekkoth over here. There might be enough space for him to flame.’

‘He’ll just burn branches. Trees are too close together.’ D’gar thought rapidly. It might be as well to get another flamethrower. He could probably get this one working, but if he waited any longer, they’d just be wasting more time. ‘Yes, you go back to the Weyr. Bring two, just in case.’

‘Fine. Er, which way is it back?’

‘Lad’ll show you,’ one of the men said and gestured to the one who had been unwisely poking at the burrow. The two of them disappeared into the trees.

V’chal had found the perimeter. ‘Dig here. Go gently.’

D’gar sat down on a stump, disconnected the wand and started stripping it down. Every movement hurt his shoulder just a bit more. He ignored it. It was probably going to be the safety mechanism that had jammed. Either that, or the trigger had broken. He’d bet a few marks someone had dropped it, or accidentally hit it against a tree. As he worked, he could almost hear Sbrin’s voice, the first time he’d shown D’gar how a flamethrower worked. S’brin, who seemed to be able to work out what was wrong with anything mechanical just by feel and a quick look. Good job he’d had that bit of practice when he’d been on support duty, he thought, to refresh his memory.

He glanced over to where two of the men were digging, V’chal to one side watching carefully as they threw soil onto a growing pile. Water still dripped down all around; unfortunately, it wasn’t in sufficient quantity to drown Thread.

If his right fingers weren’t so numb, he could work faster. They felt something like when you woke up having been lying on your arm. It had to be a result of the blow earlier. When he got back, the healers could take a look. But right now, it was annoying.

‘How’s it going with that?’ V’chal called over.

‘Getting there.’ He wondered if G’reden was back at the Weyr yet. _Herebeth, is Jekkoth still with you?_

_He has just left._

_Let me know when he returns._

_Are you all right? Lilith is concerned._

She had a right to be. V’chal was closest to the burrow and even with his Turns of experience, it only took one mistake. _We’re fine._

He got the mechanism apart at last and there was the problem. A locating pin had snapped, jamming the safety catch on. He pulled it out. The flamethrower would work without it until it could be properly serviced. ‘Found the fault,’ he called out.

‘Good. Think we’re near to uncovering something nasty over here.’

‘Give me a minute or so and we’ll be ready to burn.’

The men were digging even more carefully now, sensibly realising that if a dragonrider was being cautious, it was for good reason. D’gar fitted the wand back together. The clips were tricky with his hand not working properly, but he finally managed. When he depressed the trigger a satisfying jet of flame emerged. ‘Yes! We’re ready.’ Ignoring the pain, he hauled the tank onto his back and went across, keeping well clear as a few final shovels full revealed a tangle of writhing filaments. One of the diggers gasped, covered his face against the stench of it and stepped back instinctively.

Seeing Thread so close was always horrifying. There was something so wrong about it; so alien. Somehow you just knew it didn’t belong in this world, or near anything living. D’gar’s stomach heaved slightly, but there was nothing in there to come up. Good job, really. ‘Get back, everyone,’ he ordered, then when they were safely away, he dialled up the setting to maximum and held down the trigger. Bright, hot flames emerged, searing the Thread. It hissed and crackled as it burned, smelling even worse. The fire travelled along the length of it, like an oil-soaked rope. It was almost as satisfying as riding a flaming dragon, destroying the stuff like this. Even when he thought he’d got it all, he carried on for a few seconds, just to be sure. Foul smoke billowed from the pit.

V’chal came forward and peered down, wafting the smoke away from his face as he did so. ‘Think you got it all.’ At the same time, Herebeth said, _Jekkoth returns._

_We may not need the extra flamethrowers. But ask him to bring them anyway, just in case._ D’gar looked down as the smoke finally began to clear. Everything seemed to be charred. ‘Give it a poke,’ he instructed V’chal.

‘Looks fine.’ He stirred around with the metal rod, lifting pieces of charred Thread. By the time G’reden arrived, they’d checked over the entire area.

‘Seems safe now,’ he told the men.

‘How can you be sure?’ one asked.

‘We got this burrow. There might be others, of course.’ It was always a possibility. ‘If any trees start to fall unexpectedly or look as if they’re dying in the next day or so, inform the Weyr. And you’ll need to get this flamethrower properly fixed. It’s not safe to use like this.’ He shrugged off the tank straps, wincing.

‘Are you all right?’ G’reden noticed.

‘Hurt my shoulder earlier. It’s not feeling too good now.’ With the job done, the pain had come back anew.

‘Thank you,’ one of the men said, as V’chal packed his rods away. ‘The Lord Holder will be very grateful.’

‘Just doing our job. And you did yours well, too, spotting it.’ D’gar rubbed his shoulder. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’ They began the weary trudge back to their dragons.


	26. In the Infirmary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar visits J'rud in the infirmary after Threadfall.

The infirmary was never a pleasant place to begin, especially directly after Threadfall. D’gar went back to his weyr first and soaked in the hot water, hoping it might make his shoulder feel better. It helped a little, although as he dressed, he realised he was still going to need some treatment. Oh well, at least some time had passed, so they’d have finished with the minor scores. Besides, he needed to check on J’rud, so he could get it seen to while he was there.

Herebeth flew him across and he slid carefully to the ground, trying not to jar the shoulder yet again. He spotted Zurinth outside the dragon healers weyr. Her colour was dimmed to a sad grey-green and her eyes also echoed her distress. A large score had burned a trail down her left shoulder and also part of her wing. Herebeth went over and nuzzled her for reassurance. They’d always been close, having hatched at the same time.

‘How is she?’ he asked the nearest healer.

‘We’ve cleaned and numbed it. There’s some damage to the wing, but it didn’t stop her flying. She’ll heal fast. Not so sure about her rider, though.’

His heart sank. ‘I’m going inside to see him now.’

‘They might still be working on him. It was fairly bad.’

The worst cases had already been moved away from the entrance. It was nowhere near as hectic as the day he’d been to get his own score looked at. He remembered how H’rek had run in to check he was all right. That wasn’t about to happen today.

Seeing the aftermath of Threadfall close up always affected him. Just a few hours ago, the people lying in these beds had been healthy, fit and sound, convinced that they’d get through it unscathed. For some of them, the injuries would prove to be life-changing; becoming accustomed to loss of a limb, or an eye was never easy. He scanned the beds, trying to spot J’rud without spending too much time actually looking at the occupants.

‘Can I help you?’ One of the healers had come over.

‘Yes. I’m looking for my wingmate. His name’s J’rud. Green rider. From Fort Weyr,’ he added, for ease of identification.

‘Ah. I think they may have finished, but he’s probably still unconscious from the fellis. This way.’

She led him down the wide aisle between the beds. The worst cases were always kept furthest from the doorway, so they wouldn’t be disturbed by folk passing to and fro. It was a sure sign of recovery when you were moved closer to the outside world.

J’rud had been placed about as far from the door as you could get. In this part of the cavern, most of the patients were lying still; drugged with fellis to help them sleep and to dull the pain of their injuries. D’gar identified him firstly by his light brown hair. At least his face looked untouched, he thought, with a certain degree of relief.

‘How long before he wakes?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘An hour, maybe two. You can wait if you like.’

‘Thanks. I… er, need to get my shoulder looked at. It’s not serious. Something hit me.’

‘Something?’ She raised her eyebrows.

‘Well, a dragon. Got a bit close during Fall.’

‘Sit down.’ She pointed to a nearby chair. ‘Take your shirt off and I’ll have a quick look now.’

‘Thanks.’ Pulling his shirt over his head was uncomfortable enough, but when she started manipulating his arm to see how much movement there was the discomfort turned rapidly to pain. He gritted his teeth against it.

‘Any numbness?’

‘My arm was, when it first happened. Fingers still are, a bit.’

‘The good news is there’s nothing broken. But you’ll have some heavy bruising. The impact probably pinched a nerve.’ She moved round behind him, prodded some more. ‘Oh, you’re the rider whose dragon pulled him out of the lake. Those cuts have healed nicely.’

‘Yes.’

‘Accident prone, aren’t you? You should try to rest for the next few days.’

‘There’s another Fall in two days. I have to be all right by then.’

‘Your choice.’ She sounded disapproving. ‘But I’d not advise it.’

‘We’re a man down already. I can’t afford to be out of action.’

‘Better to sit out one Fall than to push yourself and end up worse. Stay there. I’ll get you a sling and some numbweed.’

While she was away, he watched J’rud. He seemed peaceful enough, but that would be due to the fellis. D’gar remembered him in the dining hall at breakfast, joking as usual. Now, here he was, unmoving and pale. Still at least he was alive. At least he’d made it back to the Weyr.

‘Here you go.’ The healer returned and busied herself with applying numbweed to his shoulder.

D’gar knew he had to ask the question. ‘How badly scored is he?’

He couldn’t see her expression, but her voice was solemn. ‘His left leg caught the worst of it. We had to amputate what was left of the foot.’

That was bad.

‘Now, we just have to keep it clean and hope it doesn’t get infected.’ Her tone changed as she finished treating him. ‘Put your shirt back on and I’ll adjust that sling for you. Try to keep it on as much as possible. Do you have someone who can help with your dragon?’

‘I did, but they’ve sent him down south.’ Would H’rek have forgiven him by now? He hoped so. It had been such a silly argument.

‘Well, maybe get one of your wingmates to help rather than struggle to do it yourself and make things worse. I know what you riders are like.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘You can stay here. Wait until he wakes. He might be a little confused…’

‘From the fellis. I know.’

‘And he obviously doesn’t know about…’ she glanced toward where his foot should be. ‘He won’t be able to feel anything, with his leg numbed.’

‘Should I tell him?’

‘If he asks, yes. Best to get used to it as soon as possible. You probably know him better than we do so it might be easier coming from you.’

After she’d left, D’gar sat there in the half-light. He wondered how Zurinth was coping with her rider still being unconscious and sent a query to Herebeth.

_She is worried about him._

_Tell her he should wake up in an hour or two. I’m going to stay here, so you do what feels right._

_I will keep Zurinth company._

_Good. Can you please let Piroth know that he’s going to be in here for a while._ That would give R’feem a chance to think about how he was going to fill the position. If he’d be able to, that is. There was such a shortage of greens at Benden. Maybe they could bring someone in from another Weyr?

J’rud was still sleeping deeply. If he wasn’t going to wake any time soon, maybe there was time to grab something from the dining hall. His stomach had settled now Fall was over and was reminding him he’d not really eaten all day. ‘Back soon,’ he said to J’rud. They did say that even when someone was unconscious, they could hear voices.

As he made his way out, he considered the simple act of walking. One foot in front of the other. You didn’t even have to think about it. J’rud was going to have to learn all over again. He wondered if they’d give him some kind of false foot. One of the older riders at Fort had lost his leg above the knee and the Smithcrafthall had made him a metal replacement, with a knee that even hinged as he walked. If they could do that four hundred Turns ago, surely they’d be able to fabricate something even better by now.

On his way toward the door, deep in thought, someone called his name.

It was Gr’lon, sitting in a chair next to his bed. ‘What have you done to yourself this time?’ The bandages had gone, revealing livid scars on his face.

‘Oh, nothing much. How about you?’

‘Good news. They’re letting me out in the next day or so. I’ll be able to go back to my own weyr.’

D’gar remembered that he’d worried about his vision. The eye on the scored side didn’t look much different from the other one, at this distance. ‘How’s the…?’ he pointed at his own eye.

‘Vision’s a bit blurry, so far. Better than I’d hoped. Can you stop for a chat?’

‘I’d love to. I’m just going to fetch something to eat. Do you want any?’

‘A klah would go down well. Maybe a sweet roll if there’s any going.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ It was good to see him looking so much better.

In the dining hall he had to fend off a few enquiries about J’rud. Some of his wingmates wanted to visit him, but D’gar managed to persuade them to leave it until tomorrow. He’d need a bit of peace and quiet once he woke, to come to terms with what had happened. He didn’t tell them anything about the injuries, of course. That was up to J’rud, in his own time.

He ate a couple of meat rolls right there, then grabbed two mugs of klah and put a few extra titbits in a bowl to carry back.

Gr’lon had a visitor. D’gar recognised R’gul from his build and the Wingleader’s knots on his shoulder. Well, he’d not interrupt them. At least R’gul was visiting his injured Wingsecond, so that had to be a good thing.

‘Excuse me.’ He passed the klah to Gr’lon and put the bowl down on his bed. ‘I’ll come back later,’ he said.

‘No, stay.’ Gr’lon said quickly. ‘I was just telling the Wingleader that I should be fine to fly soon.’

R’gul didn’t seem as pleased by this as D’gar thought he should. ‘Yes, great news.’

‘You said that there were men with one eye flying in some of your Wings, didn’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’ Where was this going, he wondered?

‘You see,’ Gr’lon said to R’gul.

‘Yes, but you don’t. I’m not having anyone flying with me who isn’t one hundred percent.’

D’gar didn’t even try to stifle his laugh. ‘Then you’ll not have much of a Wing left after a few Turns. Everyone’s going to get injured sooner or later. Even you.’

R’gul gave him the kind of dirty look that probably worked fairly well to shut up those in his Wing. ‘It’s nothing to do with you.’

‘No, of course not. But if you don’t want to believe me, then ask R’feem or W’lir. They’ll tell you the same. And to be fair, he’s not got only one eye. The injured one just isn’t quite as good as the other one, isn’t that so, Gr’lon?’

‘I’ve told him that already.’

‘Well, there you go, then. Now, I’m going to sit with my rider who’s got half his leg missing, but I bet he’ll be riding Fall again as soon as it’s healed enough for him to go _between_. And we won’t mind, because we’re a working Wing, not just all spit and polish and show.’ It came out a bit sharper than he’d intended, but he didn’t really care. R’gul needed to realise times had changed.

J’rud still hadn’t moved. In the semi-darkness it was hard to tell if he was even breathing, so D’gar leaned closer, just to reassure himself that he was. Having established that everything was all right, he sat back down and sipped his klah. The lack of light and post-Fall tiredness meant that he soon dozed off. He was awakened by a hand on his good shoulder.

It was always confusing when you were woken. For a moment he forgot where - when - he was. ’S’brin?’

‘No, lad. R’feem.’ The Wingleader stood beside him.

‘Oh, sorry.’ He glanced over to J’rud, remembering why he was here as his senses returned fully.

‘What have you done to yourself?’

‘Slight mid-air collision. Nothing broken. I’ll be fine. The healer insisted on this.’ He held up the arm in the sling and winced involuntarily.

‘I bumped into R’gul on the way here. He didn’t seem too happy with you. Said you’d been putting notions into his rider’s head.’

‘Oh, that. His Wingsecond doesn’t have perfect vision anymore, so R’gul told him he’d not be able to fly in his Wing. I may have been a bit short with him.’

‘Ah.’ R’feem seemed to understand. He glanced at J’rud, who looked to be stirring slightly. ‘Do you want me to give him the bad news?’

‘I can do it. That’s why I stayed here.’

‘Well, I’ll stay as well. Keep you company.’ He pulled up another chair from beside the nearest empty bed. ‘Comfy, these. No wonder you dropped off.’

D’gar thought of the number of times R’feem must have had to keep vigil like this, waiting for someone to wake. The other visits, too, when someone had lost a son, brother or weyrmate. ‘We were clutchmates,’ he said, in case R’feem didn’t remember, or thought he was overstepping his duties.

‘I know. Four of you joined “C” Wing at the same time. J’rud, T’kes, S’brin and you.’

‘There was T’mudra as well, but he was transferred in later.’

‘Ah, yes. T’mudra. He wasn’t with us long, was he?’

‘No. Caught a load of Thread over Ruatha.’ He’d not been fond of T’mudra, but it had still been a shock when he’d not come back out of _between_ after getting hit. T’kes was still alive, but blue Neyrenth had been so badly scored on one Wing he wasn’t fit to fly again.

R’feem sighed. ‘Anyone know how it happened to J’rud?’

‘I didn’t see it. Herebeth told me.’

‘He should be able to tell us himself soon.’

J’rud was definitely coming back to consciousness, in that half-aware way of someone who’d been well dosed with fellis.

_He’s waking now,_ D’gar sent to Herebeth. _Might be a bit confused, so let Zurinth know she isn’t to worry._

He moved closer to the bed. ‘J’rud,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’re in the infirmary at Benden Weyr.’

‘Eh? What?’ He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. ‘Zurinth…?’

‘She’s just outside,’ R’feem said. ‘Unfortunately, the doors aren’t big enough for even a green dragon to get in here.’

‘I have to go to her. She got scored.’ He tried to sit up.

D’gar stopped him. ‘You don’t have to. She’s been numbed and patched up. Just like you have. What you need is to rest.’

J’rud flicked his eyes from one to the other of them. ‘If you’re both here, then something bad must have happened.’

‘Well, I came here to get myself treated.’ D’gar pointed to his sling. ‘Then R’feem came along to find me. We were just having a bit of a chat while you were asleep.’

‘How much do you remember?’ R’feem asked J’rud.

J’rud screwed up his eyes. ‘Not a lot. It was all really quick. We’d taken out a clump, then come back into line. There was a lot of cloud…’

D’gar nodded. ‘The visibility wasn’t great today.’

J’rud carried on. ’We hit something. Thread, obviously. I didn’t even see it. Zurinth did, but too late. Then there was pain. I wasn’t sure if it was me, or her. She got us _between_ , then back to the Weyr. Everything’s all jumbled up after that.’ he looked uncertain. ‘Why am I in here?’

D’gar exchanged glances with R’feem, who gave him a small nod. He’d already gone through a number of different ways he could say what he needed to, but when it came down to it, J’rud’s own jokey tone came to mind. ‘Good news is you’ll definitely be missing a few Falls. You might even get to lounge on a southern beach while you’re both recovering.’

J’rud looked straight at him. ‘And the bad news?’

‘There’s no easy way to say this. You’ve lost your left foot.’ He paused, to give time for it to sink in.

J’rud made an odd sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. ‘I thought it was the whole leg they were taking off. I can’t feel anything that side.’

‘That’s probably the numbweed.’

R’feem patted J’rud on the shoulder. ‘You’ll both need some time to get over this. But I’ve no doubt you’ll be flying with us again. You’re a good pair, you and Zurinth.’

‘Are we? Look at the state of me now. And Zurinth’s scored too.’

‘Don’t blame yourself for that. Conditions were bad. It was an accident.’

‘Could have happened to anyone,’ D’gar added. ‘I had some close calls myself today.’

R’feem turned to him. ‘Can you stay here a while? I’d better get back for the Wing meeting.’

‘If J’rud wants me to.’

He nodded. ‘Can someone tell Sh’ran?’

‘I’ll make sure of it.’ R’feem ran a hand through his hair. ‘Some of the other riders will probably want to come and visit too. Do you want me to put them off?’

J’rud shook his head slowly. ‘I’d like them to know I’m all right. Well, what’s left of me, anyway. They’re going to have to know sooner or later. Just… not all of them at once.’

‘I’ll sort that out. See you both later.’ He left.

D’gar pulled his chair closer. ‘You want me to get you anything? Klah? Food?’

‘Just a drink of water will do for now. I feel a bit sick.’

That was understandable given the circumstances. ‘I’ll go and fetch some.’ There was a pitcher of water and cups in one of the niches just the other side of the cavern. He poured it carefully and brought it back. ‘There you go.’ He waited until J’rud had drunk it, then put the cup down on the ledge next to his bed. ‘So, are you and Sh’ran…?’

J’rud fiddled with the bed furs. ‘We’ve been seeing each other. I like him. Don’t know how he’s going to cope with… this?’

‘If he feels the same way about you, he’ll understand. Anyway, there are worse body parts to be missing than a foot.’

His comment raised a smile. ‘That sounds like the sort of thing S’brin used to say.’

‘It does, doesn’t it. Think I picked up some of his sense of humour over the Turns.’

J’rud leaned back and shut his eyes. ‘Sharding awful, isn’t it? Thread. It takes the best of us. You ever think about all the clutchmates we’ve lost?’

He nodded.

‘We should have finished with all this.’

‘M’rell said much the same just the other day. But we can’t go back. We’re here now. Look on the bright side. If we hadn’t come forward, you’d not have met Sh’ran.’

‘And I’d still have all my limbs intact.’

There was no easy answer to that. Some folk might tell him to look on the bright side; to count his blessings, but D’gar knew exactly what he’d have replied if someone had said the same just after S’brin had died, so he didn’t. ‘How’s Zurinth now?’ he asked, to distract J’rud from his own misery.

‘Says she’s comfortable. Herebeth’s stayed with her.’

‘I know. He and Zurinth always got along. Just wish we could do more.’ He sighed, having run out of things to say. ‘Anything else you need?’

‘Not really.’ He yawned widely. ‘I might have another nap.’

‘It’s the fellis. They’re a bit heavy handed with it, I’ve noticed. When I was in here after the lake incident, I slept most of the time.’

‘Come back later?’

‘Of course.’

He called in at the Wing meeting to let everyone know that J’rud would be happy to see them, but that he was having a rest right now. Afterwards, N’bras came over to apologise for what had happened.

‘Apart from nearly colliding with me, you didn’t do too badly. We need to work on your formation flying and keeping in position. It’s easier, most of the time, to let Thread come to you rather than chase it all over the sky.’

‘I’ll remember that.’

‘Now you’re here, could you give me a lift back to my weyr? Herebeth’s over with Zurinth, being protective.’

‘Sure.’

It felt strange to be getting on board a Benden blue. He’d already ridden Rioth, who was large for a green, but Genlorth wasn’t far off the same height from the ground as Herebeth. Climbing up with his arm in sling proved impossible, so he left it off for the short hop and slid down carefully once they’d reached his ledge. N’bras still looked downcast and D’gar felt suddenly sorry for him.

‘You want to come in for a drink?’ It would pass the time and would prove there were no hard feelings, despite everything.

N’bras hadn’t been inside the weyr before and looked around at the hangings and furniture. ‘Nice.’

‘That’s mostly down to H’rek and J’rud. They informed me I have absolutely no sense of how to furnish a place. Do you want klah or something stronger?’

‘Well, if you’ve got any wine…’

‘I haven’t, but I can get some. Think I need a drink after earlier.’ Seeing N’bras’s pained look, he quickly added, ‘It was a tough Fall today. And J’rud - the injured rider - is a good friend.’ He pulled aside the curtain and called down the service shaft. Shortly, the mechanism rumbled and a skin of wine appeared. D’gar unstoppered it and took a sniff. ‘They’ve given us the good stuff. There’s something that’s gone right today, anyway.’ He poured and handed N’bras a cup.

He took a sip. ‘That’s Benden,’ he said, sounding surprised.

‘I know.’ D’gar smiled. ‘They must think I’m a Wingleader or something, having this weyr. I’m not about to put them right on it.’ He sank back in the comfy chair and put his arm back in the sling. ‘Suppose I’d better use this as they’ve given it to me.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘I expect so. I’ve had worse.’

‘Like when that rider tried to drown you?’

‘Please. Don’t mention that. It’s one of the more embarrassing incidents in my life. Dragons fighting…’ he shook his head.

‘Someone said…’ he paused. ‘I mean, I’d heard all sorts of things about you folk, but you don’t seem that different to everyone else.’

‘Hmm.’ He thought of some of the things H’rek had said. ‘We have a few opinions that don’t sit well with modern folk, I’ll admit, but that’s to be expected after four hundred Turns. Even without that, different weyrs have always had their own ways. You just have to adapt.’

N’bras sat back in his own chair and sighed. ‘It’s not just you. Some of us feel the same. I mean, you probably think of us all as Benden riders, but although I Impressed here, we were sent down to Southern more or less right away. We stayed there for nearly four Turns. Then we find only a few days had passed here. It messes with your mind, all that timing it.’

‘H’rek’s told me about that. And I’ve been to the south, briefly. Beautiful place.’

‘It is. But we were all half-asleep most of the time. Exhausted. No-one said it was because we’d been sent into the past, so we just thought it was down to the heat.’

D’gar remembered how sleepy he’d been the day he timed it back from Fort and tried to imagine feeling like that for so long. ‘That was tough on you all. Plus, not knowing what was going on back at the Weyr.’

‘Oh, I’m not Weyrbred. I barely got to know anyone here after we were Searched. Most of us were Hold or Craftbred, you know.’

‘Back at Fort, nearly everyone who stood as a candidate was Weyrbred.’ He wondered if that was another Benden peculiarity, or simply that they didn’t have sufficient boys to choose from when Ramoth laid so many eggs.

‘They wanted us older so we could fight Thread sooner.’

That made sense. Desperate measures and all that. D’gar found his cup was empty and poured himself another. His head had that pleasantly fuzzy feeling from the alcohol. He didn’t usually drink so much so fast.

N’bras accepted a refill too. ‘We weren’t allowed to visit home, not even when our dragons could fly,’ he continued. ‘No one at Southern was. So all that time my family never knew what had happened to me.’

‘That’s tough.’ It had been the same for H’rek, albeit slightly less time had passed in his case.

‘Although if my father knew about C’vash he’d disown me anyway.’

‘That’s one thing that’s not changed in four hundred Turns. Holders can be so… unforgiving. Luckily I’m Weyrbred, so my mum had no issues when I fell in love with another boy.’

‘Your wingmates told me all about him.’

‘I thought they probably would, along with all the other Threadfall stories.’

N’bras took another drink. ‘I don’t know how you could bear it. If C’vash had died, I don’t know what I’d have done.’

‘Kept on, for your dragon’s sake. It’s all you can do.’ Now that he was looking back on it, he didn’t really know how he’d got through those first few sevendays. ‘But he’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. He should be back in our weyr soon. He was lucky, I guess. Lucky you were there, too and acted as quickly as you did.’

‘Well, sometimes luck’s on your side. Like today, with me. I’m not sure exactly what part of Genlorth hit me, but it sharding well hurt.’

‘He said it was his foreleg.’

D’gar smiled wryly. ‘I seem to have a knack for getting clobbered by dragons.’ He’d drunk enough that what had happened at the lake didn’t seem quite so awful now.

‘That one who half-drowned you. Isn’t he still in your Wing?’

‘Unfortunately, yes. Although his dragon’s recovering from mating flight injuries, so he’s not flying with us at the moment. But when he does come back, watch out for him. He’s a right bastard.’ He’d probably said too much, but that was the trouble with having a few drinks.

‘What’s his name?’

‘F’drun. Bronze Ryth.’

‘Oh. Isn’t he the one who Kylara took up with?’

‘The same. But she dropped him like a hot cake when Ryth failed to fly Prideth. Trouble is, he’s being sent down south to help clear the place. I worry about him being around with H’rek there as well.’

N’bras looked puzzled. ‘You think he’d hurt H’rek to get at you? Really?’

‘I don’t know for sure. But I’ve good reason to believe he might.’ He should definitely stop talking now. ‘Look, I’m going to get some food sent up. You want some?’

‘Please. If I’m not keeping you from working.’

He shook his head. ‘Admin can wait until tomorrow. All I’ve got planned for later is to visit J’rud again.’

‘And H’rek will be back, too.’

‘Well, yes. Don’t know if he’s forgiven me yet, though.’ He looked into his cup and found it empty again. ‘We had a bit of an argument yesterday. First one.’

‘Ah.’ N’bras paused. ‘I thought I saw Rioth on Telmoth’s ledge this morning.’

‘Who’s Telmoth’s rider?’

‘L’cal.’

One of his clutchmates, as he’d thought. ‘Green?’ he asked.

‘No, bronze. Holder’s son. Bit full of it, really. Although he gets away with a lot, being such a charmer. Good-looking, too.’

With every word, D’gar’s heart sank a little further. H’rek and L’cal would be working in close proximity, in the south. Who knows what might happen? To distract himself, he called down the service shaft for some food. While he waited for the order to be sent up, N’bras got up and started to look round the weyr more closely, peering at the tapestries and H’rek’s collection of sea shells, before finally getting as far as the pool. He dabbled a hand in the water. ‘Nice, having your own pool. I thought it was only Wingleaders who got that.’

‘Well, F’nor put in a good word for me with Manora.’ That had been down to his rescue of C’vash. Funny how everything connected.

The mechanism rumbled again - it was quieter than the one in R’feem’s weyr - and several bowls filled with a selection of spicy and sweet snacks came up. ‘Give us a hand with these.’

They carried them over to the table. D’gar ate two small savoury pies, then poured some more wine. N’bras was pretty good company, really. ‘So, tell me some more about this L’cal.’


	27. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar holds a party in his weyr, then wishes he hadn't.

After visiting J’rud a second time, D’gar invited some of the Wing up to his weyr, then ordered more wine and ale for them all. He realised that he wanted H’rek to walk in and see that he was able to have a good time whether he was there or not. Yet as evening fell and it became dark outside, there was still no sign of him. Several times, he pondered asking Herebeth to bespeak Rioth, but some stubborn part of him was determined that he’d not be the one to make the first move. The argument had been stupid, of course, although it was what had happened afterwards that bothered him. According to N’bras, L’cal had a reputation for flirting with anyone, male or female. If he didn’t know that Rioth was still a while away from rising, he’d think H’rek was acting proddy, but there wasn’t even that excuse.

‘You’re quiet tonight.’ M’rell had joined them. It was his final night in Benden before going south the following day with one of the working parties. They’d been told that they’d be staying down there for at least a couple of sevendays.

‘Thinking about what happened to J’rud.’ It was only half a lie; that was on his mind as well.

‘You know what he’d say if he was here; “get drinking, stop thinking”.’

‘Very true. I think I will.’

M’rell looked around the weyr. A couple of the riders were in the pool, splashing around, N’bras among them. ‘The Benden lads seem to have settled in well.’

‘Yes, I think they’ll be fine once they get into our way of fighting.’ Absently, he massaged his shoulder. It was starting to ache again.

‘Where’s H’rek got to? I’d have thought they’d be back by now.’

D’gar shrugged. That definitely hurt. ‘Not sure what he’s up to these days.’

M’rell’s expression changed. ‘Hey, have you fallen out with him, or something?’

‘We had an argument. He walked out yesterday and I’ve not spoken to him since.’

‘I’ll have a word with him, if you like, when I get down there.’

‘No need. It’ll sort itself out.’ He sighed. ‘It’s just, we’ve got on so well up until now and I wish it hadn’t happened.’

‘You and S’brin used to fall out now and then.’

Both D’gar and S’brin had occasionally and separately taken refuge in M’rell’s weyr. ‘Yes, but that was usually when Zemianth was getting close to rising. You know what a temper he had and being proddy just made it worse.’

M’rell nodded. ‘Shells, yes. Do you remember when he threw that table across the dining hall? And he was well known for punching people during mating flights.’

‘That’s beside the point. H’rek doesn’t have a bad temper. We just disagreed, that’s all. I was tired and shouldn’t have pushed it.’

‘You can’t go back and change things.’

‘Unfortunately not.’ Not even with a dragon. Timing it didn’t work that way. From what he understood, what had already happened was set in stone.

‘So, back to my first point. Get drinking.’

The party went on for some time. A few of the riders were too drunk to safely ride back to their own weyrs, so D’gar got out some spare furs to let them sleep in the chairs, or on the floor. He’d had a lot more wine than he’d normally be comfortable with, so he drank plenty of water before getting into bed, carefully stepping over the unconscious bodies before shuttering the glow basket. He fell asleep fairly quickly.

At some point during the night, he awakened. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper and usually woke several times, getting back to sleep once he’d turned over and settled down. When H’rek was there, or back in the old days, when S’brin had been, they’d sometimes just snuggle together for a while before he dropped off again. This time, he woke to find someone spooned against him, with an arm across his chest.

For a moment, he was confused. In his drowsy state, he couldn’t remember straight away where he was, or who should be there. He still felt slightly light-headed from the alcohol, enough that he didn’t over-think things, just settled back, accepted that someone was sharing the bed with him and fell asleep again.

The next time he woke, it was closer to morning. He had a slight headache, a dry mouth and a full bladder. Someone else was still in his bed and this time he was sober and conscious enough to know that wasn’t a good thing, especially as some of the other stop-overs were also beginning to stir. The faint grey light of dawn slid under the curtain.

_Herebeth. Are you awake?_

_Yes. I gather you are, too._ Was it his imagination, or did his dragon sound slightly disapproving?

_I think I drank a bit too much._

_Not just you. I have two other dragons on my ledge. There is not room out here for so many of us._

_I’m sorry about that. I’ll wake up the other riders._

As he sat up and stretched, his shoulder protested. Injuries always felt worse the next day and this was no exception. He needed numbweed. He needed to get all these people out of his weyr. There was the morning exercise session looming; even if he couldn’t participate, it was still his job to supervise it.

All that was visible of the sleeping man next to him was a tangle of dark hair on the pillow; the rest of his body was burrowed under the furs. As he threw back the covers a hand reached out to grasp his thigh. ‘Don’t go,’ someone said sleepily.

‘It’s time everyone got back to their own weyrs.’ He disengaged the hand and swung his legs around, wincing as his bare feet touched cold stone. Someone must have taken the bedside rug.

There was sufficient light to pick his way across to the necessary without tripping over anyone. it felt a bit like stepping back in time; like the morning after one of the parties he and S’brin had held back at Fort. Except he wasn’t so young any more and was supposed to be a responsible Wingsecond. On his way back, he checked who was here. M’rell, obviously. If anyone was going to drink too much you could rely on him. G’reden too. V’chal was snuggled in the largest chair with T’rai. And in his bed, half-awake, was N’bras.

‘Did you two have fun?’ V’chal had woken up and was obviously overjoyed that he might have discovered something worth gossiping about.

‘Nothing happened. He just slept with me.’ No, that sounded all wrong. ‘I mean, we were in the same bed, asleep. Isn’t that right, N’bras?’

N’bras looked hungover. ‘To be honest, I don’t remember much about last night.’

‘You and half a dozen others.’

V’chal was still grinning. ‘What’s H’rek going to think about this?’

‘I’m hoping he won’t get to hear about it before I’ve had a chance to talk with him first. Anyway, like I said, nothing happened. I’m sure if it had, your finely-attuned ears would have alerted you to what was going on. N’bras has a weyrmate and so do I.’ D’gar started to pull on his discarded clothing.

_Which dragons are out there with you?_ he asked Herebeth.

_Lilith and Toth._

_I’ll tell their riders._

_That would be good._ Herebeth still sounded put out about sharing his space.

_Have you seen Rioth this morning?_

_She is not at Benden Weyr. She is in the south._

Ah. Well that went some way to explaining why H’rek hadn’t come back last night.

‘Finished chatting to your dragon?’ V’chal asked.

‘Yes, he’d like his ledge back. Your Lilith is still out there.’

‘She’s a terrible flirt.’

‘Well, you know what they say. “Like rider, like dragon”.’

M’rell groaned. The voices must have woken him up, too. ‘My head hurts,’ he complained.

‘Not surprised at that. Good job you don’t have to join us all for exercises this morning.’

It was V’chal’s turn to moan. ‘You’re not going to make us do that, are you?’

‘Afraid so. Every morning was what I promised R’feem. I’ll get Herebeth to give everyone a wake-up call shortly.’ He finished dressing, finally pulling on his boots, then turned to N’bras. ‘You’re part of our Wing now, so that means you as well.’

‘You’re a cruel bastard,’ V’chal said. ‘Almost as bad as F’drun.’

Beside him, T’rai stirred. ‘No-one’s as bad as F’drun. He wouldn’t even have thrown a party in the first place, unless he wanted to push us all off his weyr ledge.’

D’gar relented slightly. It was partly his fault they’d got drunk. ‘I’ll order some klah, all right. Then you can leave. Exercise before breakfast, as usual.’

He went over to the service shaft and called down to the kitchen for six cups of klah. Glancing back into the weyr, he could see that they had all taken his words to heart. M’rell came past to dunk his head in the pool, then emerged dripping. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Well, a bit, anyway.’

The exercise session went fairly well, considering quite a few riders were suffering the after effects of the impromptu party. D’gar didn’t believe in asking anyone to do anything he wasn’t prepared to himself, so he ran round the lake with them, at least for the first circuit. Numbweed had eased his shoulder and it didn’t feel too bad. Bearing in mind the healer’s advice, he didn’t overdo things. There was Fall again tomorrow, late in the day, and he wanted to be fit to take part.

He took pity on those who were suffering and didn’t ask too much from them. This meant the session broke up sooner than usual, leaving riders time to wash and change clothes before breakfast was served in the dining hall. For himself, he went back to his weyr and tidied up the worst of the debris, piling all the dirty cups and plates into the service shaft. Then he made his way down to join the others.

It was obvious V’chal had already been telling everyone who hadn’t stayed over his own, highly creative version of events. T’burrad made a show of shuffling along to create space so that he could sit next to N’bras, who had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed.

‘I dd try to tell them, you know,’ he whispered, having to lean closer to D’gar in order to be heard. That caused a few more ribald comments around the table.

‘Look, we’ll talk later, when this lot aren’t around.’ D’gar busied himself with breakfast and ignored the rest of the Wing, knowing that the speculation would die out as soon as something newer and more interesting caught their fancy.

You two got anything planned for later?’ V’chal called out.

‘I’m going to visit J’rud again and I expect N’bras will be seeing his weyrmate.’

As he made his way back from fetching a refill of klah, R’feem beckoned him over. ‘I’ve been asked to provide some volunteers to help ferry stuff down to Southern later on today. I imagine you’d like to be included, so maybe you could pick out a few more from the Wing to go along.

‘Sure. I’m not going to be able to lift much, though.’ He’d forgotten his sling again, he realised.

‘Oh yes, your shoulder. Well, you can get the others to do any heavy work and maybe spend some time with your weyrmate.’ He smiled in a kindly fashion. ‘Give yourself a break.’

‘Thanks.’ It would certainly create an opportunity during which he could find out what H’rek had been up to and forestall any gossip he might hear. He’d definitely not be taking V’chal.

On the edge of the landing area, supplies had already been packaged ready to go; some were boxed, others in sacks. A couple of Lower Caverns workers were bringing out more bits and pieces; storage jars, bowls and other utensils. It reminded him of the days before the Big Move, at Fort.

_Fancy doing some work today?_ He asked Herebeth.

_I am catching up on my sleep._

_Later on, not now._

_That is all right, then._

It would be unfair to disturb him, so rather than go directly back to his weyr, D’gar took a walk over to the infirmary. He noticed that Zurinth had been housed in one of the ground level weyrs and had regained some of her colour. Dragons always recovered quickly and now that J’rud was conscious, she’d feel much better. Just a few openings along from her he spotted the unmistakeable pale bronze of Ryth’s hide. F’drun was putting straps on his dragon, so he must have been pronounced fit enough to help with transport today.

‘D’gar! Wait.’

D’gar turned at the sound of his name, to see N’bras hurrying over. ‘What is it?’

‘You said we’d talk later. Then I went up for more klah and when I got back, you’d left the dining hall.’

‘We can talk any time. I just didn’t want to provide any more fuel for the gossips. Look, I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to get into bed with me last night…’

‘Neither do I, really, except it was cold on the floor and I was drunk enough for it to seem like a sensible thing to do.’

‘Wish you’d tell that to V’chal.’ Not that it would do any good. He was too caught up in his own version of events to be swayed by simple truth.

‘Look, I’ll make it all right. I’ll tell H’rek what really happened,’

‘It’s probably best if I talk to him. R’feem’s asked me to rustle up some volunteers for transport duty, so I should get the chance to clear things up later today.’ Seeing his worried expression, D’gar smiled and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. We all do stupid things when we’ve had too much to drink.’

Inside the infirmary, N’bras went off to see C’vash, while D’gar made his way through to J’rud’s bed. He was sitting up this morning. Someone had already got him a cup of klah and some food.

‘How’s it going?’

J’rud looked up. ‘Not so bad. Zurinth’s feeling a lot better.’

‘I know. I just saw her on the way in. What about you?’

He shrugged. ‘They’re keeping me well dosed up. I’m not in any pain. Don’t feel much like eating though.’

‘Fellis does that. You should try to get some food inside you, though.’

‘Says the man who can never eat before Threadfall.’

‘There is a difference. At least if you throw up here, you can do it neatly in a bowl.’

‘There is that.’ He bit off a small piece of sweet roll, then washed it down with klah.

‘We’re off down south today to help out. I’ll bring you back some of the fruit that grows there. If that doesn’t tempt you, nothing will.’ He sat down in the chair. ‘Did you get any more visitors yesterday?’

He nodded. ‘Quite a few from our Wing. And Sh’ran. He was upset by what happened, but said it wouldn’t make any difference.’

‘Well, that’s good news.’ At least someone’s relationship seemed to be going smoothly. ‘Listen, you might hear some wild stories flying around today. I invited a few folk back to the weyr and some of them drank far too much.’

‘Just like the good old days, eh? So, who did what? And who with?’

‘I’m pretty sure V’chal and T’rai got to know each other better at some point. But the main gossip’s going to be about me and N’bras.’

J’rud’s eyebrows went up. ‘Didn’t H’rek have something to say about that?’

‘He wasn’t there.’ That sounded terrible. ‘And in any case, nothing actually happened, except in V’chal’s vivid imagination.’

‘Tell me more,’ J’rud seemed intrigued.

‘Well, N’bras climbed into bed with me. And we slept. That’s all.’

‘Really?’ He looked dubious.

‘Honestly. On the shell of Herebeth’s egg. N’bras has a weyrmate. So do I.’ At least, I hope I still do, he thought.

J’rud chewed a piece more of the sweet roll. ‘It sounds like a mess. Shells! Why do I miss all the juicy scandal?’

‘I expect you’ll hear all about it. Exaggerated by about one hundred percent, of course. You can tell me what they said later.’

‘Ah, so that’s why you came to visit me so early. Knew there had to be an ulterior motive.’

He did sound a bit more like his old self, D’gar thought. Cheering up J’rud might be the only good thing that came from this. ‘Anyway, I’d best get off and pick my team. Think I’ll take most of the ones who are still banned from leaving the Weyr except for work. It’ll give them a break.’

‘Take care. And make sure you speak to H’rek before anyone else does.’

‘I intend to.’

Herebeth had plenty of chance to rest before they left. It wasn’t until mid-morning that all the dragons assigned for transport began assembling on the landing area. The work parties had left earlier; M’rell and F’drun along with them. F’nor was in charge of the loading operation, much to the annoyance of some of the Benden Wingleaders, whose bronze dragons had been co-opted to carry some of the bulkiest items. To be fair, Canth was almost as heavily laden, as were the other brown dragons in the group. The blues and greens took most of the smaller bits and pieces. F’lar and Lessa were also going along and their dragons were taking the largest items, slung between the two of them. That was going to be tricky, D’gar thought, particularly when taking off and landing, but he supposed they’d had enough practice flying together.

_Will you be all right carrying this lot?_ he asked Herebeth.

_I have carried more in the past. Anyway, it is not me who has a sore shoulder._

_Very true._ His shoulder didn’t feel too bad at all; it was a lot less painful than the aftermath of the lake incident. A lucky escape, then, from something that could have been much more serious.

There was quite a lot of waiting around before they finally left the Weyr, with lists being checked and a few more items added here and there. Eventually, F’nor gave the signal to take off, while Canth supplied the visuals for the jump _between_. The group of dragons arrived in a less than tidy formation over the familiar beach. Unlike the last time he’d been there, when it had been totally deserted, now the place was bustling with all kinds of activity. The building H’rek had found was almost completely uncovered, with people busily repairing damage to its structure. Riders and dragons were working together to clear the area. As they descended to land, he saw a brown dragon uprooting a tree, scattering soil over several people working nearby.

F’nor brought them in to land on an empty portion of the beach. As soon as the dragons were safely down, people came over to help unload. D’gar recognised Bavi from the laundry, as she waved to him.

‘I didn’t realise you were down here.’

‘Funny thing. I couldn’t wait to get back to Benden, then I found I was missing this place. Think I might transfer here permanently.’

‘Have you seen H’rek?’

‘He stayed last night. Most of us did. They decided it's better that way. Then we can get more work done before it’s too hot and relax for a while during the afternoon.’ She glanced around. ‘Although maybe not today with the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader here.’

‘They’ll feel the heat as much as anyone else.’ D’gar started unfastening Herebeth’s load. _Can you find out where Rioth is?_

After a short while Herebeth gave him the reply. _She is on a beach. Just not this one. She will send me the visual._

_Good._ He expected that they’d be here for some time. A few of the blues and greens, already relieved of their lesser loads, were heading for the sea.

Bavi picked up some of the sacks he’d dropped. ‘Is everything all right with you and H’rek?’ she asked cautiously.

‘If I tell you, promise you won’t ruin any of my clothes.’

She smiled, obviously remembering the threat she’d made. ‘What happened?’

‘A silly argument. I was feeling fed up, he was tired. That’s why I took the opportunity to come down today, so I can say sorry.’

‘He’ll be pleased to see you. He seemed a bit down yesterday.’

That sounded promising. Maybe things weren’t so bad, after all.

‘I’d better take these before someone shouts at me. It’s all going over there for now.’ She pointed toward a new-looking structure.

‘Fine. I’ll bring something, too.’

It took a while to get all the dragons unloaded. D’gar was careful not to over strain his shoulder and made sure to put his sling back on so no-one thought he was shirking by only carrying one item at a time. It didn’t take long before he stripped off the wherhide riding gear. Everyone else was doing the same as they began to overheat from their exertions. Herebeth had joined the other dragons, frolicking in the surf. _It is lovely bathing in this warm sea. You should join us._

_I will as soon as I can._ Dragons didn’t always understand human obligations and responsibilities.

Once everything was unloaded and checked, cool drinks were provided in the dining hall. They’d left a few mature trees around the perimeter and while this went against everything D’gar had ever learned in relation to safety during Threadfall, he could see the benefit of having shade in this climate. Once again, he considered whether Thread fell less frequently here. Surely if there were as heavy and regular Falls as in the north, all this vegetation would have long since been eaten and the land left a barren wilderness.

‘Weird, isn’t it?’ B’lin came to sit next to him. ‘All this greenery and no-one in the least bit concerned about it.’

‘I was just thinking that.’

‘Don’t think I’d fancy living here myself. Too exposed.’ He glanced up at the blue sky above them and shuddered. ‘Where’s everyone going to go during Threadfall?’

‘The hatching caves?’ When he’d been here before, H’rek had pointed out the cone of the extinct volcano where Prideth had laid her eggs and he had Impressed Rioth. It seemed to be the only rock in the area. Maybe other parts of this unexplored continent were more suitable for human - and dragon - habitation.

B’lin finished his drink. ‘They’ll have to fly Fall over this area and for a good few kilometres around it to stop burrows spreading. Oh well, their problem, not mine. Think I’m going to go for a swim with Ondiath now before heading back. They’d better not try and get us to do any more work here. This is supposed to be a rest day, after all.’

‘I know. Think I’m going to find where H’rek’s got to. Herebeth said Rioth is on a different beach.’

He made his way back onto the sand. The sun was now almost directly overhead and it felt as hot as Southern Boll in midsummer. The idea of a swim appealed, but he wasn’t sure how his shoulder would cope with swimming through the breakers. It was probably best to find H’rek. He might know of somewhere where there were some calm pools, then they could just lie around in the water while the dragons played to their heart’s content.

_Get yourself out of the water, you big beast._

Herebeth gave a grumble. _I am having fun with the other dragons._

_You can have fun with Rioth, too. Let’s go and find her._

He brightened up. _That sounds like a good idea._

D’gar stashed his wherhide gear, tying it to the straps. It was far too hot here and the short flight would cool him down. Herebeth set off in a westerly direction. The blue expanse of a lake went past, beside which many herdbeasts browsed the foliage. That must be the feeding grounds, he reckoned.

_Those herd beasts look very tasty._

_I’m sure they do. But they don’t belong to us._

_Pity._ He paused. _Think they’d miss just one?_

_They might. Can’t you wait until we’re back at Benden to feed?_

Herebeth sighed. _I suppose so. But the beasts there are old and stringy._

_Maybe if Rioth is hungry too, she’ll let you share one._

_I shall ask her. It is not far now._

Another, smaller beach was just around the headland from the main Southern Weyr stretch. More golden sands, with a few rocks to one end, where the sea lapped gently into a series of clear pools. Ideal, he thought.

Down below, a small group of people worked at clearing another area. Some of them looked up, shielding their eyes against the fierce sun as Herebeth banked, then began his descent. Several dragons swam in the sea, along with some of their riders. D’gar recognised Rioth’s distinctive leaf-green colour. _There she is._

For a moment it seemed as if Herebeth had decided a splash landing would be fun. _Don’t do that! My clothes will get all wet. Set down on the beach first, then you can go to Rioth._

No sooner had he taken the straps off than Herebeth launched himself into the turquoise water. The waves here were much smaller, the conditions ideal for a gentle swim. D’gar took off the rest of his clothes and waded in, feeling the sand between his toes and the lovely coolness of the sea enveloping his body. He didn’t have to go far before it became deep enough to swim. The buoyancy of the salt water made it easy to float and he swam on one side, saving his aching shoulder from having to do too much work. On the way out, he went through what he was going to say to H’rek. There might be a little awkwardness at first; that was always the way when folk had argued, but H’rek was generally reasonable. D’gar had no qualms about apologising first; he’d become accustomed to that whenever he and S’brin had argued. Plus, in this case, he knew he’d pushed H’rek a bit too far. The only thing that made the situation less than ideal was that there were other people around. Still, they could always go behind one of the dragons to have a private conversation.

Herebeth was still splashing around, acting as if he was a hatchling rather than a mature dragon. He was obviously pleased to see Rioth again and she had swum over to him, so the feeling must be mutual. That was a good sign.

There were three other riders in the water with H’rek. D’gar recognised them as his clutchmates, but, as always, had trouble remembering their names. One of them - the one treading water next to H’rek, must be L’cal. The Holder’s son had that indefinable air of superiority that came from growing up in a privileged position. Plus, he’d Impressed bronze.

D’gar caught H’rek’s eye. ‘Hello,’ he began tentatively. ‘Are you all right?’

H’rek shrugged. He seemed uneasy. ‘We’re all fine.’

‘What are you doing here?’ L’cal asked.

‘Same as you. Having a swim. We’ve just brought a load more stuff down from Benden.’ Staying afloat wasn’t so easy when one arm didn’t work so well as the other. He caught hold of the nearest dragon for support. ‘Look, could we just have a word,’ he said to H’rek.

‘Sure. What do you want to say?’

‘Could we… speak alone?’

‘You can say whatever it is in front of my friends.’

That wasn’t like H’rek at all. ‘Well, all right then.’ He wasn’t comfortable, but if it was the only way, then he’d swallow his pride. ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I said some things I shouldn’t.’

H’rek nodded shortly. ‘Is that it?’

‘Well… I miss you.’

‘Really? That’s not what I’ve been hearing.’

Who would have said anything? More to the point, who would have had time to say anything? ’You know how Weyr gossip works. Not everything you hear is true. Or even half true.’ It must have been over breakfast, he realised, when V’chal had been making all those comments. Some of H’rek’s clutchmates could have overheard, then first thing, when they got down here, taken a delight in telling him all about it. ‘Please. Let me explain.’

For a moment he thought H’rek was going to relent. If he’d been alone, he undoubtedly would have done. But L’cal touched his arm and said. ‘Don’t listen to any of this. Remember what I said?’

H’rek nodded in affirmation. ‘I don’t want your explanations,’ he said to D'gar. ‘Just leave me alone.’

‘H’rek.’ D’gar didn’t know what else he could say. ‘Shells! I love you. Isn’t that enough?’ Maybe it would have been, but just then the dragon he was holding on to decided to duck under the water, so he was left flailing and spluttering. By the time he recovered, H’rek, L’cal and all the others had swum away. It was all too clearly a dismissal.

_Herebeth. We need to leave._

_But we have only just got here. Rioth is pleased to see me. She has missed me._

_Maybe. But Rioth’s rider is not happy to see me. Come and get me._ It was a long way back to shore. As he waited for Herebeth, he looked longingly after H’rek. How could everything have gone so wrong, so fast? And what could he do about it?


	28. A Memorable Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramoth rises to mate

D’gar woke, alone again, save for Herebeth’s sleeping presence at the back of his mind. Not quite the same as having H’rek sharing his bed, but reassuring in that at least there was someone in his life who would never leave him. He could do this, he told himself. He’d coped before, after S’brin died. At least H’rek was still alive and well. At least there was the possibility, however remote it might seem right now, that he would come back.

Threadfall today. A late one, which he always hated. The only good thing was that it also meant no exercises for the Wing this morning. He could stay in bed a while longer before having to face breakfast.

Dawn sent slivers of grey light under the curtain, illuminating the interior of the weyr, which he’d tidied up since the party. If H’rek did walk in, he’d not be able to say it was untidy. Not that it was likely he’d walk in any time soon. Southern was a couple of hours ahead of Benden, time-wise, so they had probably already started work. And even if he decided that he wanted to listen to D’gar’s side of the story, now that the Weyr was habitable again there would be no reason to return here until his first month’s duty was over. No, if he wanted to sort things out, D’gar would have to go south again and hope that he could talk to H’rek on his own. Perhaps Bavi might be able to help him out there? H’rek seemed to value her advice.

D’gar listened to the sounds of the Weyr waking up to another day. The faint clatter from the kitchens below, amplified through the service shaft. A gurgle of plumbing. The sound of warm air flowing through the ducts and the swoosh of water circulating in his bathing pool. From outside, the unmistakeable sound of dragon wings. Someone must be going to the feeding ground early this morning.

_It is Ramoth,_ Herebeth supplied, sounding very alert for a dragon who had, until recently, been deeply asleep. _She is very bright._

_Is she going to rise?_

_Very soon. She goes to blood her kill!_

D’gar jumped out of bed and pulled on his trousers. Herebeth had already shifted from his couch to the front of the ledge. Many of the other dragons were doing the same and quite a few half-dressed riders began appearing. Everyone craned their necks to see what was happening down at the feeding grounds.

_Must have been all that sunshine yesterday._ Unlike with Prideth, there had been no expectation that Ramoth would rise so soon, although when you thought about it and added on the months she’d spent recovering after her huge jump _between_ it was probably about time. This was the beginning of a Pass, after all. Gold dragons rose far more frequently when the Red Star was close to Pern. He remembered how often it had been commented on at Fort that the increasingly long intervals between the mating flights of the three queen dragons there must be due to the Eighth Pass nearing its end. Absently, he wondered how the jump through time would affect them. By all rights they should increase their breeding frequency again.

This would be an interesting flight. Most of the Benden bronzes had risen to chase Prideth. Even the ones who had lost and who hadn’t managed to catch a green the same day would be unlikely to be interested in mating again so soon.

_Which dragons will chase Ramoth?_ he asked Herebeth.

_Mnementh, obviously. Possibly Binth and Piyanth as they did not chase Prideth. Ramoth will not let either of those mate with her._

D’gar suddenly thought of his own Wing. R’feem’s Piroth had caught a green just after Prideth’s flight and V’vil’s Bitath had chased one a few days afterwards. F’drun was safely away from the Weyr, although surely even he wouldn’t dare to let Ryth chase Ramoth. It was a good job Threadfall wasn’t due until late afternoon. However long the flight, it should be well over by then. But some of the Benden Wings might need to let their Wingseconds take over, if the Wingleaders bronzes were too tired, or injured during the flight. He doubted very much if Ramoth would be leading the Queens’ Wing today.

Even as he watched, Mnementh flew past to take up a position from where he could launch himself when Ramoth decided to take wing. Only three other bronzes seemed to be waiting. It was often the way, when it was a senior queen’s flight and the Weyrleader was good at his job and popular within a Weyr. Not too many would want to contest the leadership. It had been the same the last time Loranth rose, almost two Turns ago. T’ron’s Fidranth had won easily, without much competition.

Ramoth had run down a herdbeast and she killed it swiftly, slicing open the belly so that the entrails steamed in the early morning chill. Beside him, Herebeth licked his lips at the sight. It brought a slight smile to D’gar’s face. All those bronzes were intent on mating while his dragon seemed more concerned with his stomach.

For a moment it seemed Ramoth would indulge herself as well, but evidently Lessa had taken control and she reluctantly turned away to merely blood the beast. As she did so, her hide began to shine with the unmistakeable glow of a healthy female dragon about to rise. The first stirrings of dragonlust rippled through the Weyr. If anyone hadn’t already wakened, that would get them going, in more ways than one. Breakfast would be late, and mostly cold fare, he knew. Good job he wasn’t going to be able to eat much, really.

Ramoth imperiously gazed at the bronzes, then took to the air. Two of them opened their wings, thinking she was about to rise, but she had other plans. A second herdbeast died and this time, she went straight for the throat. Her colour brightened still further. It was quite a spectacle.

Most of the weyr ledges were crowded with dragons and weyrfolk, watching as events unfolded. Just across the Bowl, a couple kissed and fondled each other, quite oblivious to anyone who might see them. D’gar recalled Prideth’s flight; H’rek’s first experience of a gold flight. Although he wouldn’t have been here today anyway, D’gar suddenly felt his absence more profoundly.

Two beasts seemed to be sufficient for Ramoth. She bugled a challenge to her suitors, then sprang into the air, bright as the rising sun. The bronzes followed swiftly. Within minutes, they were mere specks in the morning sky, leaving the Weyr unsettled and edgy. A few greens flew down from their weyrs, clearly agitated and wanting to rise themselves, frustrated at having to wait until the queen was caught.

_She will fly far,_ Herebeth commented. _She is young and strong and even though she wants Mnementh, she will not let him catch her easily._

D’gar had a sudden thought. _Are any of our greens going to rise? If so, they’d need to juggle the shifts to make up for their absence._

_Russanth and Hinarth,_ he replied a few moments later.

_Great. Just what we need._ At least thinking about the Wing placements would take his mind off other things. If you didn’t have a partner around, it was best to stay occupied.

_Some of the blues and browns may chase later as well._

Shells! He’d not even considered that. Perhaps it would be best to have a word with R’feem and come up with contingency plans, just in case. The Fall today was predicted to be a relatively short one: mostly out at sea, then coming in over the coast just south of Valley Hold. Thinking about logistics was as good a way as any to distract from the still niggling dragonlust.

_Ask Piroth if I can speak to his rider, please._

Herebeth took a short while to reply. _He is busy at the moment, but will see you in the dining hall in a little while._

D’gar was pretty sure exactly what was occupying the Wingleader right now. Ah well, you couldn’t blame him for that, what with only visiting his weyrmate occasionally. In fact, that didn’t seem like a bad idea. At least once he’d taken care of himself, then it would be easier to focus his mind on what needed to be done to prepare for Threadfall.

By the time he’d finished and had Herebeth drop him off, R’feem was already at their usual table. There were a few other folk dotted around the place although it was clear that Ramoth’s decision to rise early had meant most had decided to stay in bed a while longer. He fetched some klah. It was slightly stewed from having been on the hearth all night, but no-one had made a fresh brew yet.

‘It’s going to be a funny sort of day,’ R’feem said. ‘No Wingleaders meeting arranged. No Weyrleader available at present. No absolute certainty who’ll end up as Weyrleader, either.’

That was true. Although everyone was convinced Mnementh would catch Ramoth, things didn’t always go smoothly during mating flights. Plus, even if everything did turn out as expected, no-one would be fit for duty for a few hours at least.

‘Anyway, I’ve started drawing up a few contingency plans as far as our Wing goes. Let’s hope the Benden folk are doing the same. Well, those who aren’t otherwise occupied at the moment.’ He gave a smirk. ‘Two mating flights in as many sevendays. Good job they don’t have three queen dragons here or we’d never get anything done.’

‘What’s the terrain like today?’

‘We’ve been over Greystones way before.’

‘I haven’t. That was the one when I was out of action.’ He took a sip of the unpalatable klah. Oh well, better than no hot drink at all, he thought.

‘Ah, yes.’ R’feem didn’t mention the lake incident, thankfully. ‘We’re a little further north this time. A mix of mountains and valleys, with grazing on the slopes and some agriculture along the valley floors. Hilly area, difficult for ground crews to move around fast, so we’ll have to be thorough. But as Fall starts out at sea, we’ll only have around two and a half hours to worry about, so no need to sort out shifts. Just make sure there are a few replacements lined up for injuries or in case some of the greens or blues get tired.’

‘Depending on how many of ours are fit to fly at all. Herebeth told me we’ve two greens about to rise and it’s anyone’s guess as to who else chases them. There’s bound to be a few Benden greens triggered by this too.’

R’feem sighed. ‘I suppose it could be worse. At least she went off first thing, rather than later in the day. Wonder how long she’ll keep them flying?’

‘If she’s anything like her daughter, a while yet.’

‘Best hope so. The sooner they breed enough dragons, the sooner we can get back to our own Weyr. Think it ever gets to be summer here?’

‘I’m not holding my breath for it.’ The length of the days had increased noticeably, yet it was still colder and wetter than they’d been accustomed to at Fort this time of a Turn. ‘Do you suppose the seasons are different after four hundred Turns?’

‘Nothing would surprise me about this day and age. Although I’ve been back to Fort a few times and it seemed much the same as it always was, weather-wise.’

‘It was when I stopped off there, too.’

‘In that case, it’s simply that Benden has lousy weather.’ R’feem reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out some wax tablets. ‘Nothing we can do about that, so let’s start making a plan for this afternoon.’

They’d been only just started working out the positions when he suddenly received a message from Herebeth. _Thread falls!_

_What? Where?_

D’gar’s surprise must have shown on his face, for R’feem asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Herebeth’s saying that Thread’s falling already.’

_In the south. Rioth tells me._

‘It’s down south. They knew it was going to, just not where and when.’ _Is she all right? Do they need help?_ Maybe even now Orth was trying to contact Mnementh, unaware that he was otherwise occupied.

_Rioth says they would be glad of help. Not enough dragons to cover the area._

Evidently some of the other riders must have received word too, for just then D’nol and S’lel rushed in to the dining hall. D’gar had never seen S’lel move so fast. Both looked slightly panicked. “Thread!’ D’nol shouted. ‘At Southern. We have to do something! Now!’

R’feem got to his feet. ‘Calm down. We already know.’

_They also need firestone._ Herebeth relayed the message. _They do not have enough for a full Fall and they do not know how long this Fall will last._

‘They need firestone,’ D’gar passed on. ‘We should have plenty bagged up for this afternoon.’

‘Steady on,’ R’feem said to the two bronze riders, who seemed about to dash straight out again. ‘No point in everyone getting tied up in this. We still have our own Fall to fly later.’

‘We need to tell the Weyrleader.’ D’nol’s eyes were flicking from side to side as he evidently tried to listen to his dragon as well as focus on what was happening.

‘i doubt he’ll appreciate the interruption right now. In any case, we can cope. Now, how many riders are available from your two Wings? D’gar, find out how many we have right now as well.’

D’gar passed that on to Herebeth, doing some quick calculations as the answers started to come back. ‘At least fifteen.’

‘Good. Take ten of them with a couple of sacks each. You two, get around the same number from your Wings to do the same.’

They nodded, seemingly relieved that someone was taking control of the situation.

‘When you get there,’ R’feem carried on, talking softly to D’gar. ‘Let me know if you need any more reinforcements. Best if I stay here and co-ordinate, the way things are. Don’t need everyone rushing around like headless wherries.’

_Herebeth. Tell Rioth we’re on the way. Can they manage with just another thirty riders or will they need more?_ He suddenly remembered who else was there. _Actually, ask Toth that. And Ryth._ Their riders were more experienced and should have a better idea. H’rek and Rioth had never been in the thick of a Fall before - let alone one that had come as a surprise - and might be too overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of it all to think clearly.

_They are managing right now, but will need reinforcements, Toth says. Ryth confirms._

The next few minutes were a whirl of activity. D’gar had never got into his wherhide gear so fast. Other riders rushed out of whichever weyrs they had been in, some still only half-dressed and pulling clothes on. F’nor arrived looking somewhat disheveled, making D’gar wonder who he’d been with.

_Get co-ordinates from Toth. Close as we can get obviously, but not in the middle of Fall._

_Piroth already has them. He passes them to me now._ Herebeth chewed firestone as fast as he could. All around him, other dragons were doing the same. They’d need a lot more mid-air than was normal, not having had the time to take on as much as they would usually, pre-Fall. The dragons at Southern must have the same problem, D’gar realised, especially if they’d not had much warning. He fastened as many sacks to the straps as would fit, then climbed up, checking the rest of the Wing were ready.

‘Can I join you?’ F’nor called over.

‘Sure. You take the other flank, next to B’lin.’ D’gar glanced across to D’nol and S’lel, who were waiting for their last few riders to get on and fasten their straps. They both waved when they were all ready.

_Herebeth. Let’s go._ He gave the signal to take off and the three half-Wings ascended rapidly. He waited only until they’d cleared the rim, then gave the signal to go _between._

The first thing that struck him as they emerged was the southern heat. They had emerged well outside the Fall zone, although the dragons in the air were clearly visible as they flamed. Thread was advancing at its usual pace and was currently approaching the area occupied by the Weyr buildings. Good job someone had spotted it early when it must still have been falling over the sea.

_We will drop off our spare firestone on the beach first, then take the upper level. Tell Tuenth to take the mid level. Valenth’s Wing can co-ordinate firestone supplies for the fighting dragons._

_I pass your orders along._ My orders, D’gar thought suddenly, realising how easily he’d fallen in to a Wingleader’s mode of thought after so many Turns observing how R’feem did it. Well, no-one else seemed inclined to take control, so he might as well.

As they released their spare sacks, he glanced over towards the fighting Wings to try and get a grip on what patterns they were flying. T’bor’s own Wing were struggling to clear the upper level; not their fault, just that there weren’t enough dragons available to do a proper job. At least they were flying in some semblance of a formation. Below them, a random mish-mash of dragons went for whatever they’d missed, flying this way and that. Sheer luck must have prevented any collisions so far. Mind you, you couldn’t expect much better from such a motley assortment of riders and dragons, some of whom were recovering from injuries and most who had never flown together as a Wing before.

_Let’s go. We’ll start from the eastern edge._ That way they’d criss cross with T’bor’s dragons, hopefully picking up what he couldn’t. It chilled D’gar to see that there were unprotected people down below, making for the shelter of the Hatching Ground as Thread drew ever closer. They couldn’t afford to let anything through.

As they covered the short distance, he noticed even Kylara was in the air, using her flamethrower very efficiently, flanked by four green dragons, flaming well. A Queens’ Wing in miniature. The next level above them was being covered by two separate ‘Wings’. One lot seemed very organised and he realised that F’drun was leading it. Much as he disliked the man, it was good to see there was someone else who knew what they were doing in charge. _Pass on to the Wingleaders’ dragons that Valenth is supplying firestone._

_I shall do._

_How’s your flame?_

For reply, Herebeth released a short burst. _Enough for us to start with, but I will need more firestone soon._

They rose to meet Thread and D’gar found himself getting in to the all-too-familiar mindset of Fall, concentrating on checking his area of sky while still scanning ‘his’ Wing to see how they were performing and if they needed to re-organise or re-form.

_At least the air is still and we have good visibility._ Herebeth seared a large tangle in satisfying fashion, banking to take another few strands that had drifted apart from the main clump.

_Tell whoever is in charge of that untidy bunch to try and get them into a vee. Tuenth’s Wing are assisting them on that level and we don’t want anyone getting flamed by accident._

_I do not know who is in charge._ Herebeth paused. _They do not know either._

_Tell one of the bronzes then._ Shards, but this was a mess. You’d have thought T’bor would have at least thought out some kind of contingency plan. They knew that Thread would fall sooner or later, after all. _Maybe Tuenth could take them all under his wing, so to speak?_

_That might work._ Herebeth broke off to attack another squirming bundle of Thread. _I will suggest it._

_Please do._ It was a good thing he had a thoughtful - and tactful - dragon. Some of the Benden bronze riders mightn’t take too well to being told directly what they should do by a mere brown, especially one from another Weyr. He put that from his mind and used a clear space to throw a couple more pieces of firestone into Herebeth’s mouth. 

Thread was directly over the Weyr buildings now. All that greenery, that had seemed a pleasant provider of shade just yesterday, now looked like a lethal mistake. It was clear from the abandoned belongings scattered around that the support staff hadn’t had much time to get away. D’gar hoped Bavi would be all right. She didn’t deserve this. No-one should have to be out in the midst of Fall, unless they were experienced ground crew, armed with flamethrowers, or mounted on a dragon. 

D’gar wiped his face. As well as the usual char, the unaccustomed heat was making him sweat more than usual. When Herebeth had to blink _between_ to avoid a rapidly descending clump the intense cold brought instant relief. Then they were back out into the bright sunshine, wheeling left to flame again and watch Thread sizzle and blacken. 

D’nol’s Wing were ferrying extra firestone up to the Southern Wings. It wasn’t so much that they hadn’t had enough firestone, D’gar realised; more that they had been forced into the air so fast they’d not had time to prepare properly. The extra dragons joining them had probably helped to boost their morale, too. 

S’lel seemed to be bringing some kind of order to the mid-level formations. Kylara's Queens' Wing were concentrating their efforts above the people who were still out in the open, protecting them from falling Thread. It looked as if everything was gradually coming together. 

_Canth tells me we will only need to fight Thread as far as the big river._

_Really? What happens then?_ The idea of letting Thread fall, unopposed went against everything he'd ever learned. Yet how could so few of them protect the whole of the southern continent? 

_Once it is falling on the other side, it cannot reach the Weyr._ Herebeth sounded reluctant too. _I do not like to think of Thread falling if we do not fight it._

_Me neither. But if that's what they want..._ Thread would be unable to cross the wide expanse of water, keeping the Weyr and its surroundings safe. 

_More firestone, please._ Herebeth returned to strictly practical matters. _I will flame Thread for as long as I am permitted._

The Wing were flying well, cleaning up their level effectively. He watched as M’ta and Zath corkscrewed down to sear a long tangle of Thread, then moved back into position with the minimum of fuss and effort. That was how it should be done. Canth was doing his bit, too, and now that there was a direct comparison to be made, it was clear he was definitely able to flame for longer than brown Ondiath, alongside him in the formation. 

They followed the Fall as far as the river, when Orth turned and started to lead his Wing back. 

_This it it, for us._ D’gar watched the deadly rain hissing into the water, then had to look away as it began to fall, unchecked onto the lands beyond. He knew that Herebeth was as unsettled as he was by the sight. All of the dragons must be, as fighting Thread was such an ingrained instinct for them. 

He gave the orders for the Wing to fly back. There was plenty of room on the main beach for everyone to land. Some of the support staff were already returning from the Hatching Ground. D’gar hoped fervently none of them had been injured. 

‘Well flown.’ F’nor called across. 

‘You too.’ _Tell the rest of the Wing they did a good job._

_I shall. Toth informs me they were very relieved when we all arrived._

D’gar climbed down from his dragon and began his usual post-Fall checks. The heat forced him to take off his jacket. He rubbed his aching shoulder. Once they got back, he’d put some more numbweed on it before this afternoon. Shells! How long had they been away? 

_We still have plenty of time,_ Herebeth informed him. _I have spoken to Piroth. He tells me also that Mnementh flew Ramoth._

Well, that was a relief. At least they didn’t have to cope with a change of leadership on top of everything else. 

‘Can we have a swim while we’re here?’ M’ta asked. 

‘I don’t see why not. We’ve plenty of time to get back to Benden and we might as well relax here in the sun as back there.’ 

‘Thanks.’ He began stripping the sacks and straps from Zath. 

_Do you want to swim?_ he asked Herebeth. it was only fair, as he’d had his bath cut short the previous day. 

_I should enjoy that._

Most of the dragons were doing the same, washing the char and firestone dust from their hides. D’gar sat on one of the unused sacks, watching. Rioth had found her way across to Herebeth already. It was so easy for dragons, he reflected. 

‘Hey.’ 

He turned to see H’rek, looking slightly awkward. ‘Are you all right?’ 

‘Fine.’ 

__‘Good.’_ _

__‘Can I… can we talk?’_ _

__‘Sure.’ He patted the sack next to him and H’rek sat down. There was still a distance between them, but this was already turning out better than yesterday._ _

__‘Did you really sleep with N’bras?’_ _

__So, he had heard then. ‘Yes. But literally so. We slept. That’s all. There was a party and everyone got drunk. Several people stayed in the weyr that night. Ask M’rell.’_ _

__‘He already told me. He said nothing happened.’_ _

__‘There you go, then.’_ _

__‘I’m sorry about yesterday.’_ _

__‘Me too.’ D’gar watched the dragons splashing each other with flapping wings. ‘Herebeth often tells me we make life too complicated.’_ _

__‘Rioth says the same.’_ _

__‘Then let’s do as our dragons suggest.’ Impulsively, he reached out for H’rek and pulled him into a hug._ _

__H’rek didn’t resist. ‘I thought we were going to die this morning,’ he said softly, next to D’gar’s ear. ‘I didn’t want to die without saying how much I love you.’_ _

__‘I love you, too.’ D’gar pulled back, but only so that he could look H’rek in the eyes as he said it. ‘We might argue again. We might not. But how I feel will never change.’ The hug turned into a kiss that said more than words could ever hope to._ _


	29. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unexpected Threadfall in Southern has its consequences

‘It was the dragons who warned us. I mean, there were a couple of folk on duty watching the north-eastern approaches, but the dragons got restless before anyone even saw anything.’ H’rek still sat on the firestone sacks next to D’gar. B’lin and F’nor had just joined them. D’gar had no doubt that F’nor would report everything back to the Weyrleader.

_Tell Rioth to tell H’rek not to drop anyone in it. We aren’t alone now._

_Will do._ Herebeth blew water from his nostrils as if in acknowledgement. D’gar saw H’rek’s head jerk slightly as he got the message.

‘Anyway,’ H’rek continued, ‘The visibility was as good as it is now, so you could see the grey haze of incoming Thread across the sea. Trouble was, no-one really knew what we were supposed to be doing.’ He paused. D’gar realised that he must be thinking carefully about how he was going to carry on. ‘I mean, usually when you know there’s going to be a Fall, all the Wingleaders meet to discuss tactics and formations. There’s time to make sure people on the ground are safe and so forth. We only had around ten minutes to prepare.’

‘Is that when you sent us the message?’ D’gar asked, prompting him.

He nodded. ’Everyone was scattered. We’d had breakfast and started work, so some folk had already gone over to the western area. Quite a few dragons were over there too. I knew some of them, so I got Rioth to send them a warning as well. I think a few others must have done the same, because they all started coming back fairly quickly.’

F’nor nodded encouragingly. ‘Then what happened.’

‘We got our riding gear on and fighting straps. Then we started feeding firestone to the dragons.’

‘I heard something about you not having enough firestone.’ F’nor queried.

‘We’d been concentrating on getting the accommodation ready and clearing the place, so although there was firestone available, not much had been bagged up.'

That didn’t look too good on T’bor, D’gar thought. As Weyrleader, his responsibility was to make sure the Weyr was ready to fight Thread. The fact that he’d not known when it might fall surely should have made it even more important to be prepared.

‘So, did T’bor tell you which Wings you’d be flying with?’

H’rek looked uneasy. ‘I, er… I’m not sure. No one had said anything to me, but I can’t answer for anyone else on that.’ He glanced toward D’gar as if asking for some help.

D’gar felt for him, but there wasn’t really anything he could do. If F’nor asked H’rek a direct question, he was obliged to answer truthfully. Looking past H’rek’s shoulder, he saw M’rell walking towards them, wiping char from his face.

‘While we were getting ready, the support staff dropped what they’d been doing and started making for the Hatching Ground, but it’s a fair distance and you can’t run that fast on soft sand.’

‘Maybe someone should have taken them on dragon back?’ F’nor suggested.

‘Maybe we should.’ H’rek shrugged. ‘Only there wasn’t a lot of time and T’bor said that our priority was to get airborne. I could see his point,’ he added, obviously in defence of T’bor’s decision. ‘As long as we were up there, we could destroy Thread before it got to ground.’

M’rell reached them. ‘Glad you got here as fast as you did,’ he said to D'gar, throwing his jacket across the sacks. ‘It was a shambles before you arrived.’

D’gar couldn’t deny that; he’d seen it for himself and so, for that matter, had F’nor. ‘I don’t know,’ he commented. ‘Some of you seemed pretty well organised.’ That was true as well.

M’rell grimaced. ‘I hate to admit it, but you can thank F’drun for that. He got all of us injured riders and dragons formed into a Wing and took charge. The rest… well you probably saw what a mess they were.’

H’rek rounded on him. ‘Quite a lot of them had never flown Fall before. At least I’d had experience with the Queens’ Wing, but some hadn’t even had that.’

‘Easy, lad,’ M’rell said. ‘I wasn’t getting at you, just telling it how it looked to me.’

‘Yes,’ F’nor said. ‘I have eyes too. Carry on, er…?’

‘M’rell, Toth’s rider. From R’feem’s Wing, same as D’gar here.’

D’gar was certain now that F’nor was carrying out an official investigation. He gave up trying to moderate comments. Everyone would be telling the same story anyway and as F’nor had mentioned, he’d seen what it was like for himself.

M’rell sat down heavily on the sacks and continued. ’T’bor’s Wing - well, the half of it that’s here - took the top level and we started clearing what they couldn’t get to. But there were dragons all over the place so you had to be careful when you were flaming. I nearly took some blue’s head off at one point. Gave me and Toth a real turn.’

H’rek looked down at the sand, obviously embarrassed. ‘We didn’t know what we were meant to be doing. I suggested we should try and get into some kind of formation, but who’s going to listen to a green?’

F’nor nodded. ‘You all did what you could,’ he said, directing his comments towards H’rek. ‘No-one’s trying to blame you youngsters for anything. Main thing is to make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.’

‘This Fall must fit into the pattern of what we get up north,’ D’gar suggested. ‘Maybe we could figure out when the next one’s due from the maps you already have?’

‘I’m sure the Weyrleader will look into that.’ He stood, tucking his gloves into his belt. ‘I’d best be off. See you later back at the Weyr.’

D’gar noticed he didn’t call Canth out of the sea, but went over towards the Weyrhall, probably to find out T’bor’s side of the story before leaving.

M’rell stretched. ‘Thought we were here for rest and recuperation,’ he sighed. ‘Still, at least I know Toth’s eye’s all right now.’

‘That’s one good thing.’ D’gar noticed that H’rek still seemed very downcast. ‘It’s all right. You heard what F’nor said. You’re off the hook for this.’

B’lin nodded. ‘Could have been a lot worse.’

‘Yeah. At least no-one died,’ M’rell added.

H’rek looked up. ‘And that’s meant to make me feel better, is it? I felt useless up there. It was chaos.’

‘It always is,’ D’gar assured him. ‘I remember my first Fall as a wingrider. It all seemed to happen so fast and I was convinced everyone else except me knew what they were doing.’

‘You don’t learn it all over night,’ B’lin added. ‘That’s why we try to pair up new riders and dragons with someone experienced for their first couple of Falls. You were thrown in at the deep end.’

D’gar put an arm around him. ‘You did the right thing, calling for help.’

‘I can’t believe no-one else had thought to do that. Tell the Weyr, that is.’

‘They probably did. Only everyone at Benden was otherwise occupied. Ramoth rose this morning.’

‘Ah. I see. So that’s why F’nor’s here instead of the Weyrleader?’

‘Exactly. Mnementh flew Ramoth, by the way.’

‘Well, at least something’s gone right this morning.’ He sounded calmer.

‘I’m off for a swim,’ B’lin said. ‘How about you?’ he asked M’rell.

‘They’ll probably want me to get back to work now all the excitement’s over.’

‘I doubt anyone’s too concerned with that right now. Anyway, you deserve a break.’

It was obvious to D’gar that B’lin was trying to give him some space to be alone with H’rek. He flashed him a short smile as a thank you, just as M’rell seemed to catch on.

‘Yeah, I do. And Toth, too. Look after my stuff, D’gar.’

‘We’re not going anywhere for a while.’ M’rell and B’lin stripped off their clothes, then went running down to the shore, pushing each other like a pair of weyrbrats. He sat for a while, content just to enjoy the unexpected time together, relieved that he’d had the chance to explain at last.

H’rek looked around, at the beach, the trees waving softly in the breeze. ‘Don’t think I’m ever going to feel the same about this place again. When we lived here before, it was safe. Now…’ He shook his head.

‘You’ve had a scare.’ D’gar could understand why H’rek felt that way. Living in the open, or under wooden shelters was no protection at all.

‘I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Helpless. Scared.’

‘Rioth took care of you. Dragons trust their instincts. If you trust your dragon, everything usually works out fine.’

‘I know. But I wish I could go back to Benden.’

D’gar wished he could as well. ‘Sometimes, we don’t get a choice in where we’re sent. But things often turn out better than we’d imagined. Stick with it. The month will soon pass.’ He pulled H’rek closer again.

H’rek whispered in his ear. ‘You said Ramoth rose. Did I drag you away in the middle of a gold flight?’

‘Yes, but it’s not so much fun when you’re on your own. I was with R’feem when Herebeth told me…’

‘R’feem!’ H’rek sounded shocked.

‘Planning our Threadfall tactics.’ He had to smile at H’rek’s misconceptions.

‘Ah. Sorry. I’m being Holdbred again.’

‘I wasn’t going to mention that.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I could stay here with you all day, but we’ve got Fall later.’ Absently, he rubbed his shoulder. Hefting all that firestone hadn’t done it any good.

H’rek obviously noticed. ’Have you hurt yourself?’

‘A few days ago. I had a mid-air collision with a dragon Then we had to find burrows in a sharding forest.’ He remembered their argument beforehand. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear I didn’t burn anything except Thread.’

‘I didn’t really think you would. The more I think about that day, the more I realise how stupid it all was.’

‘I know. I’ve been thinking the same.’

‘I shouldn’t really have mentioned it to the others, but L’cal noticed I was a bit quiet during our break and asked. It was his idea for me to stay away that night. Said it would show you you couldn’t push me around.’

‘Have I?’ D’gar asked. ‘Pushed you around, that is?’ He didn’t think he had.

‘No. But I don’t think he likes you much.’

‘What have I ever done to him?’

H’rek counted off points on his fingers. ‘You’re a Wingsecond. You’ve got a nice weyr. You’ve got yourself noticed by the people who count, like F’nor. You’ve got me.’

‘I didn’t know he fancied you.’

‘I don’t think he does. As far as I’m aware he prefers girls.’

That - sort of - put D’gar’s mind at rest. Although N’bras had said that L’cal flirted with anyone, hadn’t he? ‘So, did anything happen? With you and him?’

‘No!’ H’rek looked pained. ‘I’m surprised you even asked that.’

‘Well, you assumed I jumped into bed with N’bras at the first chance.’

He was quiet for a few moments. ‘That’s true. I’m sorry. But no, nothing happened. I slept in the chair that night in his weyr. He snores really loudly.’

‘So why did he try and turn you against me?’

‘I think…’ H’rek paused. ‘It’s complicated, but basically he doesn’t think we - meaning the Benden and Southern riders - should be mixing with you.’

‘Meaning anyone from the other five Weyrs?’

H’rek nodded. ‘He doesn’t think we’ll ever find common ground. You know his father’s a Holder?’

‘I’d heard, yes.’

‘Well, he’s had some trouble with Fort Weyr riders. Not that I want to bring all that up again and obviously, there might be some exaggeration, but…’

‘There’s always a grain of truth in any story.’ D’gar knew that some dragonriders threw their weight around when dealing with Holders. It only took a few to give a Weyr a bad name. You could see how some of the ingrained attitudes they’d brought from the past could rub modern folk up the wrong way.

‘Exactly.’

‘Mind you, it goes both ways. Some of our folk feel the same. They don’t like the way things are in this day and age and they don’t see why they should be the ones to change.’ He remembered the misconceptions Agarra had rolled out regarding Benden Weyr customs. ‘It’ll take Turns, rather than months.’

‘What can we do?’

‘Ignore them and get on with our lives.’

Although he'd liked to have spent longer with H’rek, D’gar knew that he needed to return to Benden with plenty of time to spare. He got Herebeth to round up the rest of their wing riders, having given them long enough to rest and swim. There were a few grumbles but most saw the need for getting back. In any case, having missed breakfast, not many wanted to miss out on lunch as well.

M’rell waved them off, standing next to H’rek on the sand. ‘See you soon.’

‘I’ll try to come back tomorrow.’ Although D’gar knew that H’rek would be working, they could still spend some time together during his breaks, or maybe when work stopped for the evening. If necessary, he and Herebeth could help out with some of the jobs themselves.

By comparison with the humid heat of noon in the south, Benden had a crisp feel to the air, even though the sun was shining and the weather seemed almost springlike for once. He and B’lin joined R’feem in his weyr for lunch and a pre-Fall briefing.

‘Hope you two aren’t too tired.’

‘Not really. We were only in the air for a short while,’ B’lin said, helping himself to klah and some bread and cheese.

D’gar nodded agreement. It was always hard to judge time when you were fighting Thread, but he’d guess it had been less than an hour. His stomach felt fairly settled - amazingly so, considering - so he risked eating a slice of crusty bread and a piece of fruit. ‘How was it back here?’

R’feem took a sip of his own klah. ‘Once they’d all calmed down, fine. A couple of the other Wingleaders wanted to take their own Wings down there, but I persuaded them to wait until we heard if they’d be needed.’

‘We had plenty of dragons, as it turned out.’

‘Anyone hurt?’

‘Not that I saw.’

‘Excellent. Oh, and F’nor mentioned that you’d done a good job as acting Wingleader.’

D’gar felt his face start to blush. ‘It was hardly that. Everyone knew more-or-less what they were doing.’

‘No, he’s right,’ B’lin said. ‘You took control; got things organised. And managed to do it without upsetting those bronze riders as well.’

‘Well done, anyway.’ R’feem picked up his slates. ‘Now, shall we work out what’s happening later this afternoon? I’ve made some notes.’

It was an easy Fall. The weather was kind; good visibility and light winds. No-one in their Wing was injured and there were only a few scores among the other Wings as well. They’d done their stint as ground crew on the previous Fall, so today that duty fell to someone else. D’gar was happy about that. While there weren’t any forested areas, the terrain was hilly and it would be hard work getting around down there. He was also pleased that N’bras had taken his guidance to heart and was flying in much more level fashion this time. There were no more near-misses.

By the time they were done and back at the Weyr, the stress of the day was starting to take its toll. He felt tired and drained; his shoulder aching. After a meal, he went off for an early night. The excitement of a gold flight, then the two Falls, short though they might have been, would make sure everyone had a good night’s sleep tonight.

The following morning, after the usual exercises, he took some breakfast over to the infirmary for J’rud.

‘Sorry I didn’t get here yesterday. It was a bit hectic. How are you feeling?’

J’rud shrugged. ‘Not so bad. It’s odd though. I can feel my foot aching even though it’s not there any more.’

‘Is that normal?’

‘The healers say it’s fairly common when you have a limb amputated. Anyway, what’s all this I hear about you saving the day down in the south?’

‘It was hardly that. I just did my job.’ D’gar filled him in on the events. By then, Sh’ran had also arrived, bringing more food with him. Izaeth had caught a pair of wherries for Zurinth, who would be unable to fly for a couple more sevendays until her wingsail mended sufficiently.

’We’ll both be getting fat with all this sitting around and being fed,’ J’rud joked. It was good to see him looking more cheerful, despite everything. D’gar left him chatting animatedly to Sh’ran, thinking that it looked as if their pairing might last longer than just a mating flight fling.

_When will we be seeing Rioth again?_ Herebeth was as eager as he to visit

_Later._ He thought it would be better to leave it until the afternoon, when everyone in the south took their main break during the hottest part of the day.

_Rioth asks when we will be there. She says they are not busy today._

_Dragons may not be busy, but what about their riders?_

Herebeth had no answer for that, so D’gar spent the rest of the morning doing some more admin for the Wing, tidying up the weyr and oiling Herebeth’s fighting straps. Last thing he wanted to do was to make a nuisance of himself, especially given the attitudes of some people. You couldn’t explain all that to a dragon, though.

Eventually, he set off. It was another pleasant day over the Benden mountain range, blue skies and a purplish haze making the sharp peaks look somehow softer.

_Maybe this place does have spring? Even summer._

_It will be much warmer in the south._ Herebeth said enthusiastically. _I am going to swim again._

There were quite a few dragons doing just that as they emerged from between over the golden beach and the smaller dots of people in the water. Others lounged around under the trees.

D’gar removed Herebeth’s straps and watched him half-run, half-fly down into the water, then made his way along a newly cleared path to the Weyrhall. There were several groups sitting in the shade. He spotted M’rell and went over.

‘How’s it going?’

‘Better today than yesterday.’ He was with a couple of other brown riders, both from Benden. D’gar hadn’t met them before, although he thought they were probably from Ramoth’s clutch as they looked a similar age to Sh’ran.

‘Want to join us?’ M’rell asked. ‘This stuff isn’t bad.’ He held up his cup, which contained some sort of pulped fruit juice. ‘Too hot for klah.’

‘I wondered if H’rek was here.’

‘He was, earlier, when we had lunch. He’s probably gone for a lie down in his wallow.’

‘His what?’

‘Well, they don’t have weyrs here, so the dragons just move some sand around until they’re comfortable and most riders make a shelter next to it.’

D’gar supposed that was what H’rek had been used to when he’d lived here before. M’rell poured him out a cup of juice. It was tangy and refreshing. ‘That’s pretty good.’

‘There are some benefits to being here.’

D’gar had a quick look around. People seemed to have settled very quickly, considering the disruption they’d had the previous day. ‘How is everyone?’

M’rell shrugged. ‘Some of the Lower caverns staff aren’t too happy. They want to go back to Benden.’

‘Can’t blame ‘em for that.’ The shorter of the two riders said. ‘They didn’t come here to get nearly eaten by Thread.’

‘No. I have to say, I wouldn’t fancy living out in the open, even with a dragon.’

’T’bor’s got more folk on watch now and regular patrols. He’s not going to get caught out again,’ the other rider added.

‘Well, he got a telling off, didn’t he?’ M’rell said.

D’gar raised his eyebrows. ‘From Benden?’

‘From Kylara. We all heard her, yesterday evening. “You sorry excuse for a man,” she said. “Left it all to me to get things organised.” She wasn’t at all happy.’

‘Screamed at him for a good half-hour,’ one of the Benden riders added. ‘Threw a few things too.’

‘Do you think he’ll be in trouble?’ M’rell asked. ‘I expect F’nor will report everything to the Weyrleader.’

‘I reckon so,’ D’gar said. Weyr autonomy meant that no Weyrleader could interfere with another, but Southern wasn’t exactly an independent Weyr; not yet anyway. T’bor might be called Weyrleader, but he still answered to F’lar and Lessa when it came down to it.

‘F’drun’s a bit full of it, as well. You’d think he’d saved the entire place single-handedly.’ M’rell sounded disgruntled.

‘That’s F’drun all over. I expect he’s trying to get back into Kylara’s good graces.’

One of the brown riders looked at the other. ‘She’ll probably go for it, too, now she’s fallen out with T’bor.’

D’gar had heard plenty about Kylara’s tricks by now from a variety of sources. Although she’d thrown F’drun out of her weyr after the failed mating flight, if he was her best chance of irritating T’bor, she’d use him again. And he’d use her. They really did deserve each other.

He finished his drink. ‘Any idea where I can find H’rek’s wallow?’

‘Out of here, turn left. Follow the path.’

‘Thanks.’

It was a pleasant stroll. On the way he picked some of the fruit from the low branches. It was a variety familiar to him from Southern Boll, but looked larger and more appetising than any he’d seen before. He’d said he would take some back for J’rud a couple of days ago and this time, he meant to keep that promise.

Pushing aside some of the fast-growing creepers, he saw Rioth curled in her sand wallow. It did look very comfortable. H’rek was leaning against her shoulder, dozing. Asleep, he appeared even younger and vulnerable in a way that made D’gar want to protect him.

Rioth opened an eye and regarded him. He wondered if she thought badly of him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, also projecting it mentally as he would when speaking with Herebeth. She didn’t answer; dragons very rarely spoke to anyone not their own rider, but her eye colour changed to a slowly whirling green-blue, meaning that she was content. It had to be enough.

Setting the fruit down carefully - he’d have to find some leaves to wrap it in - he settled down next to H’rek, leaning against him slightly, although not enough to disturb his rest. After a few seconds, H’rek shifted slightly to press himself closer. D’gar relaxed, enjoying these tranquil moments while they lasted; aware of the gentle sound of H’rek’s even breathing, the warmth of Rioth’s body against his back and the unfamiliar yet soothing noises of the jungle around them. It reminded him of a sunlit spring afternoon, at Fort Weyr, when he and S’brin had still been weyrlings; their dragons as yet untested against Thread. They’d been so full of optimism back then; still believing they’d make it to the end of the Pass. Nowadays he knew all too well that neither he, not anyone he loved was truly safe. All you could do was to live life to the full and enjoy it while you were still able to. And try not to argue, or do anything stupid to disrupt it.


	30. Trouble Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is brewing in Southern

‘Mark my words, there’s going to be trouble.’ R’feem refilled the cups with fresh klah. D’gar and B’lin were both in his weyr for a meeting. ‘No-one’s pleased about that mess-up in Southern, least of all the Weyrleader.’

B’lin picked up his cup. ’So what are they going to do? Abandon the place again?’

‘That’d be the most sensible course, but then Prideth would have to come back here and I’m told that both Ramoth and Lessa are very much against sharing their Hatching Sands with that one.’

The two dragons had risen to mate only a sevenday or so apart. They’d be laying their eggs at near enough the same time, meaning the Hatchings wouldn’t be far apart either.

‘I’ve seen queens share Hatching Grounds before,’ B’lin commented. ‘There’s enough room.’

‘So have I. But this is Benden. They’ve only had one queen dragon for so long they aren’t accustomed to it. Plus there’s all the animosity between the riders. No, Lessa won’t have Kylara back here, so they’ve got to make it work in Southern.’

‘What’s the plan, then?’ For a moment, D’gar had imagined H’rek safely back at Benden and everything back to how it was.

R’feem shrugged. ‘They’ve asked us - all the Wingleaders, that is - to come up with some ideas. I’ve already told them they can’t afford to deplete the Wings here any further by sending more riders south. So has W’lir. F’lar’s not an idiot. He can see that’s not an option. Some of the other bronzes disagree.’ He sipped his klah. ‘Easy for them. They don’t have to deal with Lessa. She’s a determined woman when she sets her mind on something.’

D’gar had heard the stories of how she’d set out to avenge her family in Ruatha. No, you wouldn’t want to upset someone like that. Or a queen dragon, for that matter. ‘What if they trained up the youngsters?’ he suggested. ‘Most of them had only done firestone deliveries before, then got dumped in the middle of a Fall with barely any warning. It wasn’t surprising they got flustered.’

R’feem considered that for a couple of seconds. ’But then who’s going to deliver firestone to the Wings?’

D’gar thought fast. ‘Well, you could swap out a couple of them each Fall with existing wing riders. That way they get experience with a Wing and there’s someone free to do their job. Or alternatively, you bring the other half of Prideth’s clutch back from Southern before each Fall here and get them to deliver firestone while the others fight with the Wings. Change them around each time so they all get their fair share of practice. Then whoever’s down south when Fall comes, they’ll be prepared.’

‘Or you could get some weyrlings from another Weyr to come over and help.’ B’lin suggested. ‘It’s not as if Benden’s the only Weyr on Pern any more, is it?’

‘Trouble is, there aren’t that many weyrlings going spare,’ R’feem pointed out. ‘I don’t know how it was at Igen, but our queens were winding down to their usual Interval clutching patterns. Loranth’s last clutch was almost two Turns ago and Suderoth’s longer than that.’

He was right. It was normal for queens to rise less frequently during an Interval, when far fewer dragons were needed to keep a Weyr populated.

‘That’s true,’ B’lin said. ‘Now you mention it, we’ve not got many youngsters at Igen either.’

‘Wonder how long it will be before the queens start rising more often again?’ D’gar mused.

‘Soon, let’s hope,’ R’feem said. ‘Otherwise Benden won’t be the only Weyr under strength. Still, that’s not a problem we can solve. Any more ideas I can put forward?’

‘Get some of the greens and blues to bring up firestone on shift changes?’ D’gar offered, glad that J’rud or V’chal wasn’t here. He could imagine the looks he’d get for suggesting that.

‘Don’t think they’d like that.’ B’lin voiced his own concerns.

‘Whatever they settle on, someone’s not going to like it. I’m more worried they might decide to take back some of our new wing riders. We could lose M’ten and N’bras when they’ve just started to fit in and be useful.’

‘If that happens we could bring M’rell back,’ D’gar suggested. ‘He said Toth was fine, although it was only a short Fall.’

‘Hmm.’ R’feem considered that. ‘But we only need him if we lose the others and if we can come up with some way to avoid that…’

He carried on bouncing ideas between them. Some of them might work; most probably wouldn’t, but at this stage, it didn’t do to discount anything. It was only when they paused for a moment that they realised B’lin was still there. ‘Anything else you can think of?’ R’feem asked him.

‘Not really. Well, nothing you two haven’t already come up with.’

‘Well, then, I think we’re done. If anything else strikes you, pass it along to me. We’re not meeting again until later this afternoon.’

D’gar and B’lin left him jotting down the ideas. ‘Well, that wasn’t what I expected,’ B’lin said, once they were back on the ledge waiting for their dragons. Both Herebeth and Ondiath had found themselves a sunny spot on the heights and were reluctant to leave, knowing that other dragons would take their choice spots as soon as they moved.

‘It’s a bit different from the way things used to be done,’ D’gar agreed. Still, it had been good to feel involved in some of the process, even if his ideas didn’t end up getting used.

‘You’re telling me. When I was Wingsecond before it was just about planning swap outs and firestone replacements.’

‘Well, I suppose the more people you ask, the more ideas you have to play with.’

‘And if it goes wrong you can blame the fellow who made the suggestion in the first place.’ Ondiath landed on the ledge, his talons scraping the stone. ‘See you later.’

‘Yes, all right.’ As soon as Ondiath had gone, Herebeth came in. _I have lost my place now. It was nice and warm,_ he grumbled.

_Never mind. We can head back down south again. It’s even sunnier and warmer there._

_That sounds like a good idea._

There was nothing more that needed doing at Benden and if he thought of another idea, he could get Herebeth to tell Piroth, as long as it wasn’t too complicated. Southern would be safe enough for the time being; the Benden maps and his own experience told him that as Thread had fallen recently, it wouldn’t cover the same area again for at least a sevenday, particularly so early in the Pass.

They emerged from _between_ over the familiar beach. People were still working busily, although a few dragons were already in the sea. It seemed as if recent events had prompted a clearance of the area immediately around the Weyrhall. They were starting to cover the roof with thick tiles, which would offer some protection at least, although the thought of sheltering from Thread in an open sided building didn’t hold much appeal. Still, if those inside were armed with flamethrowers, they could burn anything that slid down before it had a chance to do much harm.

D’gar left Herebeth to his own devices and made his way over. He realised he’d probably have to work for a couple of hours while he was here, but so long as he could spend some time with H’rek that wasn’t a problem. It was evident from the extra numbers of people around that quite a few Benden riders had had the same idea. The good weather and sandy beach would make this a popular place on rest days, he realised, particularly during the long northern winter.

He spotted F’nor chatting with T’bor and joined them, making his presence known.

‘Hello,’ F’nor said. ‘Back again?’

‘Can’t keep me away.’ He addressed T’bor. ‘If I can help with anything while I’m here…?’

‘There’s plenty to do. The roof, clearing paths, cutting back those vines. Take your pick.’

‘I imagine you’d prefer to be with your weyrmate,’ F’nor said. ‘Where did you send Prideth’s lads this morning?’ he asked T’bor.

‘Firestone duties.’ He glanced at D’gar. ‘Bit beneath you as a Wingsecond, isn’t it?’

Grading and bagging firestone was traditionally carried out by weyrlings, or given as punishment duties to wing riders. ‘It’s been a while, but I said I’d do anything, so why not.’

‘They’re over near the Hatching Grounds.’

‘Thanks.’ It was already getting hot. On the way, he took off his heavy flying gear, then his shirt. He spotted the firestone dump from a way off. The youngsters were taking a break, sitting around on the sacks they’d already filled. As he approached, someone must have spotted him. A few got up and started working again. If they’d been his own wingmates he’d have probably made some humorous comment about them shirking, but he guessed that wouldn’t go down well with this lot. When he was close enough to be recognised he heard L’cal say, ‘It’s all right. It’s no-one important, just that old timer of H’rek’s.’

He decided not to let that slip. ‘I may be just an old timer, but I’m also a Wingsecond. I’m assuming they still teach you to respect Wingseconds these days?’

He heard a few muttered ‘sorrys’. L’cal didn’t meet his eyes.

‘And, for your information, the Weyrleader sent me over.’ He didn’t say why, but they evidently thought he was there to make sure they weren’t slacking, as his comment prompted most of them to put slightly more energy into their shovelling. H’rek glanced towards him uncertainly. He gave a quick wink, then draped his gear over a nearby rock, picked up a shovel and joined in. That got some funny looks.

‘I thought you were supposed to be checking on us,’ L’cal said.

‘That doesn’t mean I can’t work as well. Good exercise, this.’ His shoulder was still slightly sore and he knew the bruising was colouring up nicely by now, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He started filling a bag, feeling eyes on him as he worked.

‘Er, what happened to your shoulder?’ It was a short, dark haired lad who’d spoken.

Probably not a bronze, D’gar decided as he didn’t have the arrogant attitude. ‘Just a mid-air collision with another dragon during Fall.’

‘The one we just had?’

He shook his head. ‘No, a couple of days before. Although I rode in your recent Fall, too.’

‘D’gar led the reinforcements down here,’ H’rek said. ‘I didn’t hear anyone moaning about “old timers” that day.’

‘Yeah. We were pretty relieved when you all turned up.’

Another of the bronzes glared at the lad. ‘Shut it, Av’rar.’

‘Well, it’s true. Isn’t it H’rek?’

H’rek nodded. ‘And don’t tell him to shut up, M’shol.’ He addressed the bronze rider. ‘No-one put you in charge.’

‘I’m a bronze. We’re meant to be leaders.’ He gave D’gar a dirty look. ‘Not to take orders from browns.’

D’gar snorted. ‘You won’t be leading anything or anyone if you carry on like that. Whatever colour dragon you ride, respect needs to be earned.’ They’d find that out sooner or later. ‘Face it, lads, you aren’t all going to be Wingleaders because there aren’t enough Wings to lead. The best you can do is to keep your mouth shut and learn from someone who knows what they’re doing.’

‘Like you?’ L’cal stood next to his clutch mate, backing him up.

‘I’ve only been in a Wing five Turns so I don’t consider myself an expert. However, I’ve managed to survive this long and kept myself and my dragon more or less intact. If you get through your first few Turns in the Wings alive, then you’ll be in a better position to talk.’

That sobered them slightly. They’d already lost one of the bronzes, after all. He decided to drive the lesson home. ‘We had twelve in my clutch. Not many, true, but Kadoth was an old dragon. Four of them are dead now. One dragon can’t fly Fall any more. Well, can barely fly at all, to be honest. And one rider has lost his foot.’ He saw a few winces at that. Funny how the thought of disability often hit folk harder than death.

Av’rar spoke up. ‘It all happened so fast the other day, I didn’t have time to feel scared. But it was really confusing up there. Is it always like that?’

‘The first few times, yes, until you get a feel for it. Main thing to remember is that your dragon’s instincts are better than yours, so trust him or her.’

‘We did all right,’ M’shol said in a slightly defensive manner. ‘My Kurmianth flamed lots of Thread.’

‘I’ve no doubt. You all did pretty well for a first time. If you hadn’t, some of you wouldn’t be here now.’ He still got the feeling that some of them felt like fighting Thread was just a variation on the Spring Games. The first nasty deaths would cure them of that. ‘Hopefully you’ll all have had a bit more practice before you need to fight Thread again. Right. Shall we get the rest of these sacks filled before it gets too hot?’

By the time they’d done, all the sacks were stacked in colour order, ready for distribution. No-one would be caught out without sufficient firestone in future. They made their way back to the Weyrhall, where the support staff had lunch all ready. D’gar took some bread, cheese and fruit and sat next to H’rek to eat. It was noticeable that after the morning’s work, many of his clutchmates were more friendly towards him, although most of the bronze riders chose to sit on a separate table. Ah well, not much he could do about that.

‘You can come swimming with us this afternoon if you like,’ Av’rar said. ‘We found this amazing waterfall with a pool underneath. It’s deep enough to dive from the rocks.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ D’gar replied. ‘Although I think H’rek and I would like to have a bit of time together as well.’ The one thing a wallow didn’t provide that a weyr did was privacy.

‘Oh, don’t worry. There are plenty of places you can sneak off alone. J’tir and B’dor are always doing that.’

‘It’s a good place,’H’rek said. ‘Loads of fruit trees. Some of them I’ve never even seen before but they taste good.’

D’gar was horrified. ‘You’ve eaten fruit you didn’t recognise. Didn’t your mother ever explain to you about getting poisoned?’

H’rek laughed and the others looked amused. ‘Everyone down here does it. You eat a small piece and if you feel all right, later on you try a bit more. We did it the last time we were here, and we're all still alive.’

‘Some things grow here that don’t in the north,’ Av’rar explained. ‘Don’t worry. We wouldn’t let you eat anything dangerous.’

‘And all of it’s better than what’s available at Benden. I saw you take a load of redfruit back last time you were here.’

‘Oh, that wasn’t for me,’ D’gar explained. ‘That was for J’rud.’

‘Can’t he come and pick his own?’

All of a sudden, D’gar realised that H’rek didn’t know what had happened. So much else had been going on, he’d not thought to tell him. ‘He’s in the infirmary. He’s the one I mentioned who’d lost a foot.’

‘Shards! When did that happen?’

‘That Fall over Telgar. Zurinth was scored too.’ Some of the others leaned closer, trying to pick up the gory details, no doubt. ‘Anyway, he got back to the Weyr quickly enough but they couldn’t save his foot. He’s doing well, though. Once they’ve both healed enough to fly _between_ they’ll be back with the Wing again.’

H’rek looked shocked. ‘J’rud and Zurinth. I never thought anything would happen to them.’ He looked down at his food as if it had suddenly lost flavour.

‘It can happen to anyone,’ D’gar said gently. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.’

‘But he’s lost his foot. He’s only, what, twenty-three?’

‘Same age as me,’ D’gar affirmed. ‘It’s not that bad, really. You can ride a dragon with only one foot. Anyway, if you promise he won’t get poisoned, I’ll take him back a whole selection of your southern fruits.’

It was a good afternoon. They flew to the waterfall on their dragons. Herebeth insisted on sitting under the cascade for a while, enjoying the novelty of watching it pour off his wings. However, the pool wasn’t really large enough for several full-sized dragons as well as all their riders, so he soon followed the others back to the sea.

All of H’rek’s clutchmates were excellent swimmers. D’gar supposed that even if they’d not been when they first arrived, living here for a Turn or two with easy access to the warm ocean would have encouraged them to learn. The pool - and waterfall - were cooler than the sea, but in the afternoon heat, it was very refreshing.

Once everyone had splashed around for a while, most took an afternoon nap. J’tir and B’dor went off together and D’gar let H’rek lead the way through the jungle until they found a shady place that gave them both the privacy they’d wanted.

‘When do you have to get back?’ H’rek lay in a bed of crushed ferns, arms behind his head.

‘Whenever I want. It’s a rest day, after all. Why?’

‘They’re having a bonfire on the beach this evening. It’ll be fun. Music, dancing, food. T’bor told us last night. Think it’s to improve morale and to try and persuade some of the support staff to stay.’

‘How many of them want to leave?’ D’gar took a bite out of a purple fruit H’rek had said was all right to eat. It was sweet and juicy.

‘Quite a few.’

‘You can’t blame them after what happened.’

‘Makes me wonder if anyone other than dragonriders will want to live here. There aren’t many natural caves, at least not as far as we’ve seen.’

‘How big is this place?’ D’gar had wondered about that.

‘We don’t really know. When we were here before we rode patrols, but only to around an hour’s flying distance. You can’t go _between_ when you don’t know what somewhere looks like.’

‘That’s true.’ D’gar picked another one of the fruits. ‘These are good.’

‘See. I told you. This land has some advantages.’

‘Don’t think I’d ever get used to it.’ He’d grown up with the safety of stone around him. Even when you knew Thread wouldn’t fall for another few days, the thought of sleeping outdoors felt wrong.

‘Well, you don’t have to. Once the Weyr is up and running again, I’ll be back at Benden full time. In the mean time, let’s enjoy everything the south has to offer.’

As the fierce heat mellowed, they made their way back to the waterfall, calling the dragons on the way. The sea was calm, reflecting the last of the daylight as the sun slipped down to meet the western horizon. The air had cooled sufficiently for it to be pleasant flying weather.

_Did you have a good swim?_ he asked Herebeth.

_We did. And we caught fish. They are tasty. Not very filling, though._

D’gar smiled. It was typical of Herebeth to be thinking about food.

Back at the Weyr, preparations were already under way. Workers were piling wood together on the beach to make a large bonfire and tables had been set up for the food. As the sun finally disappeared, stars began to appear, twinkling in the blue. Belior was just rising, sending a path of pale light across the waves. A couple of musicians, one with a pipe, the other with a gitar, began to play.

Many of the dragons settled themselves in the still-warm sand. They seemed to be enjoying the music as much as the people, D’gar noticed. Or maybe it was just that everyone seemed relaxed and happy and they were picking up on these emotions.

A smaller fire must have been made earlier and meat was roasting over it on a spit. ‘Shall we get some of that?’ H’rek suggested.

‘Sounds good.’

Wine and ale was on offer as well as a variety of cooked and raw vegetable dishes, some tasting as unfamiliar to him as the fruit had been. They settled beside the dragons and ate. ‘This is the life,’ D’gar said. Gentle warmth, music and a plentiful supply of good food, sitting with someone you loved on a beautiful beach. It didn’t get much better.

The evening wore on. Once everyone had eaten and had a few drinks, some started dancing. D’gar noticed Kylara, wearing a low-cut white dress and flirting with several of the young riders. It was obvious she was doing it to annoy T’bor. He pretended not to notice, talking with some of the riders from his Wing, but every now and then he couldn’t help himself from glancing her way.

’T’bor’s got it bad for her, hasn’t he?’

‘He always has done,’ H’rek commented. ‘No matter how badly she treats him. It’s a shame, really.’

The tempo of the music quickened into one of those dances where everyone changed partners. Kylara whirled her way through the crowd, her pale, unbound hair and light-coloured dress making her the focal point. It was as if she was weaving some kind of complicated spell, D’gar thought, making everyone dance to her tune whether they wished to or not. She shook her hair and laughed loudly, then looked pointedly over toward the trees where a small group of riders had gathered. Still leading the dancers - not unlike a queen dragon flirting with her potential mates - she drew closer, leaving the circle of firelight yet still visible as the moon illuminated her dress. Reaching out, she beckoned to one of the riders; a dark, looming figure who detached himself from his companions and willingly took her hand. The pair headed the chain of dancers as they came back within the circle of dragons and people and as the fire flared brighter, D’gar recognised F’drun.

He nudged H’rek. ‘Look who she’s picked out.’

H’rek glanced over. ‘Not really surprised, to be honest.’

‘Last time I saw them, she was chucking him out of her weyr and calling him a failure.’

‘That was then. Now she’s after someone who’ll annoy T’bor the most.’ He seemed unconcerned. ‘Why? You’re not still worried about him, are you?’

‘I don’t trust the man. You shouldn’t either.’

H’rek smiled. ‘He can’t do anything to you. Or me, for that matter. Let them play their game. It’ll keep them both occupied.’

D’gar hoped he was right.


	31. Gather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar and H'rek attend a Gather at Fort Hold.

Over the next sevenday, he managed to visit H’rek twice more in between fighting the usual Falls over Benden’s area of responsibility. Each time, he noticed the progress underway to make Southern more of an established Weyr rather than a temporary camp. To his northern eyes, it still seemed odd calling anywhere a Weyr if it wasn’t situated within a rocky bowl, but everyone there seemed to have accepted it.

Thanks to F’lar’s Threadfall charts and the records he’d perused to make them, they now had a fair idea of the days when Thread was most likely to fall in the south. After numerous meetings - which R’feem had said required copious amounts of klah simply to stay awake - it had been decided to send a couple of Benden Wings down to standby on the forecast Fall days. Most of the riders seemed to have no problem with this; waiting around in a tropical paradise wasn’t seen as a hardship and as the only land that needed protecting was in the immediate vicinity of the Weyr, the Falls would be short, as D’gar had already discovered.

One of his ideas had borne fruition. F’nor had asked him if he’d agree to do some flying with some of the youngsters still based at Benden, as apparently N’bras had sung his praises as a trainer. So far, they’d only had two sessions. Maybe it was because he was closer to the age of the riders than their previous trainers, or due to his experience in Threadfall, but they really seemed to listen and take his advice to heart.

Herebeth enjoyed it as much as he did. _They fly well, even though they are larger than dragons used to be. The bronzes are a bit clumsy though._

_Don’t let them hear you saying that._

_Well, they are. Still, good to know I can outmanoeuvre them if they decide to chase the same green as I do._ He sounded smug.

D’gar’s days flew by. If he wasn’t getting ready for Fall, then he was leading the Wing in morning exercises, visiting H’rek, or planning the next training session. One drizzly evening, R’feem met him in the dining hall. He’d just arrived back from a visit to his weyrmate at Fort and had some news. ‘They’re having the first Gather of this Turn in four days time. Be nice to see what’s still the same and what’s changed.’

‘All of our riders should be able to go, too. That ban on them leaving the Weyr will have finished, won’t it?’ D’gar did some calculations in his head. Yes, they should definitely be allowed to go. He wondered if H’rek would be able to attend as well. As long as it fell on a ‘safe’ day in the south, he didn’t see why not.

‘It’ll only be a single day, due to Fall. Shame, that.’ R’feem poured himself a klah. ‘I’d been looking forward to going to one of those three-day long Gathers they used to have in the Seventh Interval. Some of the retired riders told me about them. Said they used to be quite an event. Folk travelled long distances to get there and camped out. Music and dancing every evening, they said.’

Another reminder of what they’d missed out through coming forward. ‘Any Gather’s better than none,’ D’gar said. ‘I’m looking forward to taking H’rek. His father never used to let the family go, so it’ll all be new to him.’

R’feem smiled. ‘Glad to see you’ve made it up with him, even if you can’t see each other as much as you'd like to right now.’

‘Another two sevendays and he’ll be back here. And they don’t seem to mind me dropping in to visit him as long as I do a bit of work while I’m there.’

‘You and half of the Weyr. You can understand why, though.’

The weather at Benden had improved slightly although it couldn’t compare with the warmth and reliably sunny days of the south. ‘I’ve never seen it rain there, yet, although H’rek said it does. They don’t have snow, though, or even frost. It’s no wonder everything grows so fast.’ A lot of people put the lushness down to the climate; things grew at such a rate that even when they were cut back by Threadfall, they soon recovered. It still seemed odd to D’gar. Here in the north, if Thread burrowed unchecked, it would soon devastate a wide area. That just didn’t seem to happen there.

‘Bring back some more of that purple fruit next time you go. I took some for Hebiri to try and she loved it. She’s been pestering me to take her on a trip to see the place.’

‘You should. Mind you, they might try to poach her once they find out she’s a healer.’

‘They’re good at that.’

D’gar knew he was referring to the training he’d been asked to do. While R’feem had been agreeable - ‘best stay in their good books,’ he’d said - he hadn’t been entirely comfortable with it. ‘If they want a new Weyrlingmaster they should appoint one officially,’ he’d said, ‘Not rely on people filling in here and there. I don’t mind if you don’t, but you’ve got plenty on your plate as it is.’

‘It’s fine. I enjoy it. Besides, I’m young enough to remember how terrifying it was to join a Wing.’

‘I wasn’t that bad, was I?’

‘No. But I was convinced that if I made a single mistake, you’d throw me out.’ He and S’brin hadn’t exactly had the best reputation in the Weyr. Neither of them would have been a Wingleader’s first choice.

R’feem chuckled. ’We all make mistakes. If they don't kill you, you learn from them. Anyway, you and Herebeth were a lot better than some I’d had. Still are, for that matter.’

‘I appreciate it, you know. That you trusted me. Us.’

‘I’ve never been one to have my mind made up for me. You should know that by now.’

Thread fell the following morning; a four hour stretch over Bitra and part of Lemos. They’d been assigned to the upper levels along with S’lel’s Wing. The weather was a mix of sunshine and squally showers, some of which were heavy enough to drown Thread. Everyone came back to the Weyr soaked to the skin. The lighter dragons were exhausted from battling against the fierce winds and although everyone in R’feem’s Wing came out of it unscathed, that was more through luck than anything else. W’lir’s Wing lost a pair and there were numerous scores with varying degrees of severity.

_I would like to swim in the sea,_ Herebeth said. _My wing muscles ache. Can we go and see Rioth in the south?_

_I don’t see why not._ The thought of floating in the warm ocean was enticing. Plus, he’d be able to tell H’rek about the Gather, hopefully before he heard about it from any other source. Pausing only to put on dry clothing, they set off and came out of _between_ into a heavy shower. By the time they landed, he was almost as wet as he’d been at the end of Fall. The only consolation was that it was much warmer than the rain that had lashed down above Bitra.

Herebeth didn’t mind the rain; he was about to immerse himself in the sea anyway. D’gar took off the straps and ran for the Weyrhall, getting drenched further as the trees dripped on him all the way along the path. There were a lot of people sheltering under its newly tiled roof, clustered in groups around the tables as water cascaded down all around. It wasn’t too dissimilar to being under the waterfall, D’gar thought.

Having spotted H’rek, seated with some of his clutchmates, he made his way across.

‘I thought you had Threadfall today?’

‘We did. Just finished. Herebeth wanted a swim and I quite fancied relaxing in the sun as well.’ He cast his eyes skywards. ‘I thought the weather would be better here than at Benden. I was wrong.’

‘Now you know why it’s so lush here. We get these downpours every couple of days.’ G’kal, green Zeylenth’s rider leaned back in his chair, feet on the table.

‘How long do they usually last?’

‘Couple of hours, maybe.’ H’rek supplied. ‘This one’s been going on since lunch, so it’ll definitely blow over by evening. Can you stay until then?’

‘Might as well. At least it’s warm here and there’s good company.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Is the whole Weyr personnel crammed under this roof?’

‘Mostly,’ H’rek said. ‘Some are over in the Hatching Grounds.’

‘Kylara and her latest lover among them,’ Av’rar said.

‘And you can probably guess who that is,’ H’rek added. ‘F’drun.’

‘How’s he been?’ F’drun still worried him. He’d been subdued after the failed mating flight and while Ryth was injured, but now he had the support of the Weyrwoman, he’d undoubtedly be back to his arrogant self again.

‘He’s led his own Wing the last couple of Falls we’ve had. He’s also been showing off to some of the younger bronze riders.’

‘Our clutchmates among them,’ G’kal said. ‘Mind you, doesn’t take much to impress that lot.’

‘I thought they weren’t too fond of us old timers.’

H’rek shrugged. ‘That’s L’cal mostly. But he’s more worried about the others learning something new and him missing out on it, so he tags along as well.’

‘And how does T’bor feel about all that?’

‘He’s never been able to stop Kylara from doing what she wants and if she’s taken F’drun under her wing, it makes him more-or-less untouchable.’

That was what concerned him most. ‘Well, watch yourself around him. You know what he’s like.’ He addressed the last comment to H’rek. ‘Still, I didn’t come here to talk about F’drun. I’ve brought some good news. There’s going to be a Gather at Fort soon. I’m going along and I was hoping you’d like to as well.’

‘What, all of us?’ Av’rar asked.

‘Well, I was actually inviting H’rek, but I suppose if the rest of you want to tag along I can’t stop you. If you can get the day off, that is.’

‘I’ve been to a few of those,’ G’kal said. ‘They’re brilliant. Mind you, that was before the Pass started, so I don’t expect there’ll be so many traders or entertainers now travelling’s not so easy.’

‘I’ve never been to a proper Gather,’ H’rek said. ‘So I wouldn’t know the difference.’

‘Really? Didn’t your parents ever take you?’ G’kal sounded surprised.

‘My, er… father didn’t believe in taking time off from work. And as Gathers are always held during the summer months, when we were busy on the farm, there was no chance we’d get to go.’

‘Fort Gathers are the best,’ G’kal said. ‘With the Harper Hall so close, you get the really good musicians playing. Hey, I wonder if the Masterharper’s written a ballad to commemorate Lessa’s epic ride yet?’

‘Might be a bit soon,’ D’gar said. The Masterharper he remembered had never been particularly quick to compose anything new. Mind you, that might be different in this day and age, too..

‘Oh, Robinton’s well in with F’lar and Lessa. If they’re going - and I’ll bet they will be - he’ll want to put on something special.’

G’kal seemed very well informed, D’gar thought. Later, when the rain had eased off and they went back to H’rek’s wallow, H’rek told him that G’kal had been Searched from the Harper Hall. ‘He’s got a lovely singing voice and he can play most instruments.’

‘Let’s hope you can get the day off for the Gather. It’s not on one of the possible Threadfall days, is it?’

‘Don’t think so. I’ll need to check, but so long as it’s not, there shouldn’t be a problem leaving the Weyr. I’ll bet Kylara will want to go. Her chance to parade around in her best finery. Not to mention flying in on a gold dragon.’ His expression showed how he felt about that.

‘Except there’ll be a good few of those this time. She’s not so unique anymore.’

H’rek’s face lit up.. ‘I never thought of that. Ha! That’ll annoy her.’

D’gar wondered if anyone - apart from F’drun and T’bor - actually liked Kylara. Well, she only had herself to blame for that.

He got back to Benden fairly late in the evening. It was raining softly, grey cloud obscuring the rim of the Bowl. Although the sun wasn’t visible, the clouds were tinged with pink as it set, making the Weyr walls glow in the fading light. One more Threadfall before the Gather, he thought. Let’s hope nothing happens to either of us before then.

_You are gloomy tonight,_ Herebeth commented. _Why are you gloomy? You have been with H’rek. You were happy earlier._

_I worry about looking forward to things._ It felt a little bit like the anticipation towards the end of the Pass when everyone was counting down to the last Threadfall and a return to safe, normal life. And look how badly that had turned out.

_I do not understand._

How to explain it to a dragon? _Well, imagine that you’re looking forward to catching a couple of fat, juicy wherries?_

_Yes?_

_And then you find out that all the wherries have gone from the place you usually hunt them. You’d be disappointed, wouldn’t you?_

_I would also be hungry._ Herebeth gave the mental draconic equivalent of a shrug. _But I could eat a herd beast instead._

_What if they’d gone as well?_

_I would be unhappy. And still hungry._

_Well, that’s about it._

_If you say so._ He still didn’t sound totally convinced. _But there is no point worrying about things that might not happen. The herd beasts have not gone and neither have the wherries._

D’gar gave up trying to explain and called down the service shaft for some klah.

As it happened, the next Threadfall went as smoothly as they ever did. Decent weather for once, not too much of it over cultivated land and only one minor scoring; Lanralth just catching a wingtip due to cutting a manoeuvre too fine.

The Gather morning dawned fine, even over Benden. It was bound to be better still at Fort. After a quick breakfast, he went to get ready. Many of the Benden riders and those from the five Weyrs were intending to go. This was the first big Gather of the summer season, after all.

He’d agreed to meet H’rek and some of his clutchmates in the south. There was no need to rush; Benden time was well ahead of Fort so they’d have a full day to enjoy themselves.

The sky above Southern Weyr was cloudless. Dragons sunned themselves on the beach. The Weyrhall was deserted this morning; everyone must be getting ready for a day out.

_Rioth is at her weyr,_ Herebeth informed him. _I will wait here in the sun._

_Good._ He’d been hoping Herebeth wouldn’t want to immerse himself in the sea yet again, as he didn’t fancy getting on board a wet dragon in his best clothes. _We shouldn’t be long, then you can catch up on all the dragon gossip at Fort._

Rioth was curled in her wallow while H’rek scrabbled around inside his small shelter, still shirtless.

‘Nice view,’ D’gar said, as he strolled up.

H’rek looked round. ’I thought my green shirt was in here but I can’t find it.’ He’d thrown everything out of the storage box and was picking his way through the garments.

‘The only green item around here looks to be Rioth. Maybe it’s back at Benden Weyr. You didn’t bring everything, after all.’

H’rek looked up, wrinkling his eyes. ‘You might be right. Shells!’

D’gar picked up a pale blue shirt and shook some sand out of it. ‘This one’s fine. Or go as you are. You’ll get some admiring glances.’

‘Ha, ha.’ He grabbed the blue shirt and pulled it over his head. ‘This’ll have to do. Don’t want to be late.’

‘We won’t be. It’s still early morning at Fort. And I’m sure they’ll keep a few bubbly pies to one side for dragonriders.’

‘I hope so. G’kal’s been telling us all about them. Right, I’m ready to go.’

‘Don’t forget your shoulder knots. You want everyone to know who you are.’ D’gar patted his own. H’rek picked his knots up and put them on hastily. ’I told the others we’d meet them on the beach. Rioth can round them up. How do I look?’

‘As delicious as any pie.’ D’gar pulled him close for a kiss. ‘Better go before I get distracted and we really do end up late.’

Five others from Prideth’s clutch were already waiting by the time they got there. Both dragons and riders seemed excited. Apart from G’kal, none had been to Fort before, so he made sure that Herebeth gave their dragons a good visual before they went _between._

The Gather was unmistakeable; a field full of multi-coloured stalls situated just a few dragon lengths from the Hold itself. Bright hides stood out on the heights where all the dragons had chosen to congregate once they’d dropped off riders and passengers. One or two of those already settled bugled to greet the new arrivals.

As they descended, D’gar had a sudden disjointed feeling. He’d last been to a Gather at Fort less than a Turn ago by his own reckoning, together with S’brin. Now he was here again, four hundred Turns on. The Hold and its immediate surroundings hadn’t changed very much in appearance, but all of the Hall and Hold personnel would be unknown to him and he to them. By the time they landed, he’d recovered a little, although he still wondered if this had been such a good idea. It had already stirred up memories he’d rather leave undisturbed.

‘Are you all right?’ H’rek asked as he dismounted. ‘You look like you’re worrying about something.’

‘No. Just thinking, that’s all.’

They attached anything they didn’t need to the straps. One of the advantages of attending a Gather on a dragon was that you never needed to worry about things being stolen. H’rek’s clutchmates went off with G’kal, who wanted to look up some friends from the Harper Hall. D’gar and H’rek strolled towards the stalls. The smells of food drifted toward them; the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat, a sweet whiff of spices and freshly brewed klah. Music was playing somewhere in the distance and a light breeze made the Gather banners flutter against the sky.

‘This is wonderful,’ H’rek said. ‘There are so many different things to see. What shall we do first?’

‘I could use a cold drink.’ Having got used to the fruit concoctions in Southern, D’gar fancied a freshly prepared juice, so he went over to one of the nearby stalls. The woman behind the counter smiled. ‘What can I get you, sir?’

He paused for a while, mulling over the different flavours. ‘H’rek. Are you having one as well?’

‘I’ll go for the marshberry,’ he called. He’d moved on to peruse belts at an adjacent stall.

‘Fine. One marshberry and one citrus, please.’

‘That’ll be a sixteenth, please.’

‘Er, what?’ D’gar had never had to pay for any food and drink at a Gather before. He was wearing his shoulder knots, so it must be obvious he was a dragonrider. Although, maybe she hadn’t recognised the Fort colours seeing as the Weyr had been empty until fairly recently. ‘I’m from Fort Weyr,’ he added, just in case.

H’rek strolled over, presumably noticing his confusion. ‘What’s up? Left your marks in your riding jacket?’ He dug into his pocket and paid the stall holder. ‘He’s so forgetful. You’d think he was the green rider, not me.’

She laughed and handed over the drinks. ‘You’re not the first today to try that one. Enjoy yourselves.’

As soon as they were out of earshot, D’gar stopped H’rek. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Done what?’

‘Paid her.’

H’rek looked surprised. ’Why ever not? She has to make a living.’

‘But we’re dragonriders.’

H’rek sighed. ‘It’s not like that anymore. We’ve been told that if something’s offered freely, then we’re allowed to accept it, but otherwise we have to pay just like anyone else.’ 

Another jarring change. ‘That’s going to come as a shock to a lot of riders. Refreshments were always free at Gathers and if you admired a small item - a belt, for example - they’d usually gift it. I’ve not actually brought many marks with me. I didn’t think to.’ 

‘Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back later.’

D’gar sipped his drink. It was nowhere near as tasty as the ones they made at Southern. He wondered how some of the other riders might react to being asked to pay for things that had previously been free. They carried on walking, stopping for a while to watch a juggler and a group of acrobats, before returning to the main avenue of stalls. Around half way down, D’gar spotted a couple of his wingmates at a stall displaying rugs of varying size and colours. G’reden and V’chal looked to be arguing with the vendor, a stout man with a florid complexion.

‘I’d best see what’s happening here,’ he told H’rek. They too, might be expecting favours which didn’t exist in this day and age. ‘Hey there,’ he greeted them. ‘What’s up?’

The rug seller looked at him. ‘Do you know these two?’ he asked, rather gruffly.

‘They’re in my Wing, at Benden Weyr.’

‘You ain’t Benden riders though.’ He glanced at their shoulder knots, then at H’rek. ‘He is.’

‘That’s right,’ H’rek confirmed.

At least someone had bothered to learn the colours. ‘We’re from Fort,’ D’gar explained. ‘Seconded to Benden for the foreseeable future.’

‘Does it matter where we’re from?’ V’chal broke in. He pointed at the man. ‘He said my marks are fakes. They’re not. They’re good Smithcraft marks. Look.’ He opened his hand, showing them to D’gar.

He picked one up and examined it closely. ‘Looks fine to me.’

The stall holder shook his head. ‘I know genuine when I sees them.’

H’rek leaned in and brought out one of his own marks for comparison, holding them side by side. There were some subtle differences in the design. ‘I reckon I know what the problem is. These are old, aren’t they? You brought them with you?’

‘Well, of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave good marks behind, was I?’

The stall holder peered at H’rek’s marks. ‘These ones look all right.’

D’gar suddenly understood the problem. ‘They’re all genuine. But these ones…’ he pointed at V’chal’s marks, ‘are four hundred Turns older. You’ll have heard the story of how Weyrwoman Lessa of Benden brought us all forward?’

The stall holder nodded. ‘Harpers have been telling about it. So what you’re saying is that these here marks are from the past, is that right?’

D’gar nodded agreement. ‘You’ve got it. And obviously the design’s changed a bit in all that time. But if you don’t trust my word on that, we can always get a Smithcrafter to verify them. There’s bound to be some of them here today.’

‘You’ll vouch for these two?’

‘I’ve known them for Turns. They’re not out to cheat you.’

‘Well, I didn’t think dragonriders would…’ he sounded calmer now.

‘That’s not what you said earlier.’ G’reden was obviously still upset by the accusation.

D’gar quietened him down. ‘It’s just a misunderstanding, lads. Things have changed since we were last at a Gather. H’rek had to stop me getting into a similar mess.’ He turned back to the stall holder. ‘Now, obviously I can’t make you accept these, but if you’ll agree not to sell whatever it was these two were after, we can go off to get these marks checked and come back later.’

‘Is there a problem here?’ A pleasant and somehow familiar female voice asked.

D’gar turned to find himself face to face with Lessa herself.

The stall holder abruptly changed his tune. ‘Not at all. Just a little misunderstanding.’

‘I think we’ve managed to sort it out, Weyrwoman,’ D’gar said. Over her shoulder, he saw the Weyrleader approaching too. Great. Not how he’d hoped to meet either of them today.

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. What was the issue, exactly?’

‘Well, briefly, the stall holder thought these riders were trying to pass off counterfeit marks. We all figured out it’s just that they’re four hundred Turns old, so they look slightly different from modern day ones.’ D’gar showed the specimens to Lessa.

‘Well, so they do,’ she said. ‘F’lar, would you have a look at these.’ She handed them over.

‘D’gar suggested we could get them verified by a Smithcrafter,’ H’rek put in.

‘Sensible idea,’ F’lar said. ‘There shouldn’t be any problem, then.’ He turned to the stall holder. ‘I’m happy to offer assurances against any purchases these riders care to make.’

The stall holder smiled broadly. ‘In that case I’ll gladly sell them the rug they wanted.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ D’gar said. ‘It’s much appreciated. You know, there might be a few more incidents like this today. It’s the first Gather since we came forward for a lot of riders and some of them could get a bit… heated if their marks aren’t accepted.’ He didn’t mention how they might feel about being asked to pay at all.

‘Hmm. That’s a good point.’ F’lar handed him the marks back. ‘We’re meeting Mardra and T’ron shortly. I’ll be sure to warn him.’

As they strolled off, V’chal waited until the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman were out of earshot, then commented, ‘You seem to have got well in with the Benden leadership.’

D’gar shrugged. ‘I’ve hardly seen them really.’ He’d not even spoken to Lessa before today and his only previous contact with F’lar was when he’d had to report after the incident in the baths.

‘They know you, though. And you’re pally with F’nor, which counts for a lot.’

‘Just how it turned out. I can thank F’drun for that, really.’

G’reden looked puzzled. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well, if he’d not tried to drown me…’

‘Ah.’

‘Talking of old friends, guess who I met earlier?’ V’chal smirked.

‘Half of Fort Weyr must be here, so it could be anyone.’

‘Your favourite brown rider, H’sal. He asked after you.’

‘I’ll bet he did. Still as charming as ever, is he?’

‘Well, he looked as if he’d bothered to have a wash for the Gather, at least. You should go and say hello.’

‘It’ll be a warm day _between_ first.’

G’reden was rolling up the rug. ‘Thanks anyway. I owe you one for this.’

‘Yeah. See you later.’ V’chal and G’reden went off together.

‘I’m intrigued,’ H’rek said, as they continued walking. ‘Who’s this old friend of yours and why haven’t I heard about him before?’

D’gar groaned. ‘Long story.’

‘Shall we find somewhere to sit, then and you can tell me.’

It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. In fact, he’d have been glad for the episode to have been forgotten, except that H’sal, among other unsavoury tendencies, also gossiped a lot. They walked a little way until they found a bench next to a low wall. It was pleasant there, in the sun. Unlike the story.

‘Back when we were still weyrlings, there were a few older riders who liked to send their dragons up after inexperienced greens. Easy to catch, you see. Anyway, H’sal was one of them; still is, as far as I know, except there aren’t so many weyrlings these days.’

‘So he likes young riders?’

‘That’s about it. Apart from the fact that he’s pretty disgusting, there were a couple of incidents when he hurt his partners during a flight.’

H’rek winced. ‘Intentionally?’

‘Who can say? But everyone knows flights can be violent, both for dragons and riders, so it’s not unheard of. Plus, no-one ever gets into trouble for it.’

‘Guess I’ve been lucky so far.’ H’rek looked slightly concerned at the mention.

D’gar knew he must be thinking about Rioth’s next mating flight. ’Don’t worry about it. We’ve made plans for the next time Rioth rises, haven’t we?’ He squeezed H’rek’s hand for reassurance. ‘You want me to carry on?’

He looked uncertain. ‘Should I be hearing the rest of this?’

‘You asked about it. And knowing the way your mind works, if I don’t tell you then you’ll imagine far worse. It’s not that bad, anyway.’

‘All right.’

‘Well, S’brin’s Zemianth was due to rise for the first time. Herebeth wasn’t interested in mating yet, so I knew I was out of it anyway. Generally, the way things worked was that for the first couple of times, you could ask for a restricted flight. That meant only other youngsters were allowed to send their dragons after yours, or someone older if they were invited.’

H’rek made a wry face. ‘We didn’t have anything like that. It was a free-for-all in the south.’

‘I know. You told me all about it the first time we met. Anyway, S’brin decided not to go for a restricted flight, even though he had the right to.’

‘Why not?’

‘Pride, mostly. Some folk saw it as a sign of immaturity. Plus, we’d been in a relationship for a couple of Turns, so it wasn’t like he’d never had sex before. “He’s not exactly a blushing Holdbred lass, is he?” was how the Weyrlingmaster put it. Anyway, I was worried he’d get hurt, but I couldn’t make him see that. S’brin could be stubborn when he made his mind up. So as he wouldn’t do anything about it, I did.’ He sighed. ‘It was stupid, looking back, but I went to see H’sal in his weyr, thinking I could appeal to his better nature. Only he didn’t have one.’

‘So, did his dragon catch Zemianth, then?’

D’gar shook his head. ‘He didn’t send Nalth up after her. I persuaded him not to, in the end.’

‘Persuaded him? How?’

‘Gave him what he wanted.’

‘You paid him off?’ H’rek asked.

‘In a way. I had sex with him.’

H’rek looked horrified, reminding D’gar once again that he wasn’t Weyrbred. He felt obliged to reassure him. ‘It was no worse than what happens on any green flight. At least I was in my right mind all the time.’

‘That’s so wrong.’

‘It wasn’t the best time I’ve ever had, no. He wouldn’t have been my choice of partner. But it kept S’brin safe, so it wasn’t a total failure.’

H’rek was quiet for a while, then finally he asked, ’Did S’brin ever find out?’

‘Eventually. H’sal’s a gossip. He didn’t say anything right away, but when I wouldn’t do it again, he started telling folk. S’brin heard and asked me if it was true. When I told him it was and why I’d done it, he went mad. He wanted to go and punch H’sal, only a couple of us managed to calm him down.’ He remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. ‘Not a good day, that one.’

‘So why does this H’sal want to see you?’

‘Who knows? Probably to see if I’m still as much of a mess as I was just after S’brin died. He never really liked me much when I didn’t succumb to his charms.’

‘He sounds like a nasty piece of work.’

D’gar shrugged. ‘He’s not malicious, like F’drun. Just annoyed when he doesn’t get what he wants.' Talking about the past, this close to Fort Hold and the Weyr, brought it all back again. It reminded him of how he’d felt when they were descending to land; too many connections to a past that was irretrievable.

H’rek must have noticed. ‘Don’t let it upset you. You can’t change what’s happened and you were only trying to help S’brin.’

‘It’s not that…’ he struggled for words to try and explain. ‘Coming back here has brought the past too close. I know that four hundred Turns have passed, but my life here feels like yesterday. Benden’s got no connections for me, so I can cope better there. Does that make sense?’

‘I think so.’

‘And I wanted to show you how much fun a Gather is, but I didn’t even think about having to pay for things in this day and age. I feel like an idiot.’

H’rek put an arm around him. ‘It’s not your fault. You’ve only been here a few months. I doubt I’d adapt as well if I suddenly landed up in the distant future. Anyway, you handled that situation really well with G’reden and that stall holder.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Try not to worry about things so much.’

He sounded like Herebeth now. D’gar smiled at that comparison. ‘You’re right.’ There was no point in letting it overshadow the day. ‘Let’s go and get some of those bubbly pies.’ 


	32. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when it seemed life was settled, D'gar has to cope with an unexpected event

The Gather passed without any more incidents and was crowded enough that D’gar managed to avoid bumping into H’sal, or anyone else he’d rather not see. Afterwards, though, he was reminded that although Fort Weyr was home, it also held a lot of unhappy memories. The first day he’d arrived at Benden, it had felt like a fresh start, in a place uncontaminated by the past. That was still true; perhaps more so now that he had H’rek as a weyrmate.

He visited J’rud again the next day. The healers had him up and about now, learning how to get around the infirmary on crutches.

‘They’ve even got me running errands for them,’ he said. ‘To be honest, I’m glad you came in, or they’d still have me working.’ He sipped his klah. ‘Mind you, seeing the state some of these poor bastards are in makes me realise how lucky I am.’

J’rud had been fortunate enough - like himself - that he’d not had anything worse than minor scores previously. D’gar still didn’t like to look at the badly injured riders; the ones who were drugged with fellis, or who’d never be walking again, even with the aid of crutches. ‘Have you managed to see Zurinth yet?’ he said, diverting his mind from that path.

‘Yesterday afternoon. It took me a while to get there, especially over all that loose stone, but she was pleased to see me. The wing damage isn’t as bad as I’d thought.’

‘That’s good.’

‘It’ll be a while before it’s strong enough for us to fly again, but you know what they say about dragons healing faster than their riders. And Izaeth is keeping her well fed.’

D’gar smiled. ‘How about you and Sh’ran…?’

‘We’re getting along just fine. Can’t wait for them to let me get back to my weyr so we can have some fun again. Not much privacy in here.’

‘No, I imagine not.’

‘How’s H’rek?’

‘He’s well, too. Looking forward to being back at Benden for a month, despite the weather.’

‘When is it he’s due back?’

‘Just another sevenday now. Two more Threadfalls for us, probably one for him.’ Although the revised charts had been fairly accurate in terms of days when Thread would fall, they still didn’t have the same degree of certainty as those for the north.

‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’

D’gar turned to see Gr’lon. ‘I thought they’d let you out of here.’

‘They did. I just came back for a check up. It’s still feeling a bit gritty.’ He gestured toward the bad eye. ‘But I’ve got most of the vision back. Seems like the more I use it, the better it gets.’

‘So you’ll be fighting fit soon.’

Gr’lon made a face. ‘I am now. But R’gul won’t have me back in his Wing.’

‘Which one’s R’gul?’ J’rud asked. ‘I still get muddled with the Benden Wingleaders.’

‘Former Weyrleader,’ D’gar told him. ‘Bit of a hidebound old sod.’

Gr’lon smiled. ‘He didn’t know what hit him when you gave him that lecture. Didn’t make any difference, though. In fact, seeing you here, I was wondering if you could do something to help me out.’

‘If I can.’

‘I know F’nor’s got you training some of the weyrlings. He said I should ask you if I can fly with you next time. If you put us through our paces and think we’re sound, it might count for something.’

D’gar doubted that. R’gul didn’t seem like a man to change his mind once it was made up, and he wasn’t exactly on the Wingleader’s list of favourite people. ‘I can certainly do that. Even if R’gul won’t have you back, there’s more than just one Wing here at Benden.’

‘I’d appreciate it. They’re talking about sending me down to Southern Weyr otherwise and I’d not fancy that.’

‘It’s not a bad place. Better weather than here. And the food’s great.’

‘Yes, but Chenna would be stuck here. I wouldn’t want to leave her again, not now I’ve just got out of this place.’

J’rud chuckled. ‘Know exactly what you mean.’

‘Well, we’re doing some training this afternoon, so you’re welcome to join us.’

‘That’s great. Thanks.’ He left them.

‘Looks like you’re making friends.’ J’rud said. ‘Maybe you won’t want to go back to Fort even when they’ve bred enough dragons here.’

‘Fort’s our Weyr. Of course I’d go back.’ Even as he spoke, he realised he wasn’t so sure.

‘Really? I reckon we fit in better here than H’rek or Sh’ran would there. Last time I was back home, I heard some nasty comments about Benden.’

‘Same happens here though, doesn’t it? All those quips about being four hundred Turns old. That brawl in the baths…’

‘Maybe. But I reckon they’re getting used to us, gradually. You’re doing all right here, after all. Better than you could ever have done at Fort.’

‘I suppose so.’ D’gar - and S’brin when he was still alive - had never quite shaken off the reputation they’d acquired as weyrlings. It hadn’t really mattered to S’brin; he’d never cared for what anyone thought and as a green rider, promotion wasn’t an issue. But D’gar knew R’feem would have found it difficult to make him Wingsecond without opposition if they’d still been at Fort. ‘Anyway, that’s all in the past.’

‘Four hundred Turns past,’ J’rud reminded him.

‘I’ll come in and see you again tomorrow, all right?’

‘You’re a good Wingsecond, D’gar. And a good friend.’

He left the infirmary, taking a deep breath as soon as he was outside to clear the smell of it from his nose. No matter how many Turns went by, it would always remind him of that day.

Herebeth had decided to stuff his belly again, so D’gar strolled over to the feeding pens, where the sun was warm and sat on a bench watching his dragon run down a fat ovine. Benden was definitely getting better quality stock these days, he thought.

Another brown dragon dropped down, letting his rider slide off. D’gar recognised M’rell and waved him over.

‘Didn’t know you were coming back today. Is it permanent?’

‘Yeah. There’s nothing wrong with Toth’s eye now and most of the heavy work is done so they don’t really need us any more. Why? Don’t you want me back in the Wing?’

‘Course we do. I’ll let R’feem know you’re here. We’ve Fall again tomorrow over the vineyards, so we could do with the extra help.’

Toth caught a wherry with ease. ‘There’s some good hunting in the south, so he’s not really that hungry,’ M’rell commented. ‘I’d have probably stayed longer if it wasn’t for F’drun being there. He’s an asshole.’

D’gar smiled. ‘I’d already figured that out. So, what’s he been up to lately?’

‘Pretty much the same stuff he was doing with our Wing. Throwing his weight around. Picking on folk.’

That wasn’t good to hear. ’He’s not picked on H’rek, has he?’

‘Not that I know of. No, it’s one of the Benden greens this time. Young lad, not much older than H’rek I shouldn’t think. Just out of the infirmary here.’

D’gar suddenly remembered N’bras saying recently that his weyrmate had been sent to Southern to recover his strength. ‘Not C’vash?’

‘I think that’s his name. He’s a quiet lad, still a bit weak from his injuries. Maybe that’s why F’drun’s picking on him?’

‘Who knows why he picks on anyone. I’ve not been able to figure it out.’

‘Anyway, H’rek will be back soon, won’t he? Out of harm’s way.’

‘I just don’t like to think of anyone being sent there to recover and getting bullied.’ Maybe he could have a word with F’nor about it. C’vash had been in his Wing, after all, so he’d want to make sure the lad was all right.

‘Look at it this way. At least the invalids don’t have to put up with him for long. Might be a good incentive to get better fast, otherwise who’d want to leave a tropical paradise to come back here?’

‘Does T’bor know what’s going on?’

M’rell shrugged. ‘Think he’s just pleased there’s someone taking charge of the extra riders during Fall. He’s too preoccupied moping about Kylara to notice much else, I reckon.’

That didn’t sound good at all. ‘F’drun needs to be stopped before he does any more damage.’

M’rell frowned. ‘It’s not your problem, is it? So long as he can’t hurt anyone you care about - or me - why should we care? Leave it to someone else to deal with him.'

That was so typical of M’rell. It wasn’t that he was heartless; he just didn’t concern himself with anything that didn’t affect him directly. ‘Yes, but they won’t, will they? That’s why he got sent here from High Reaches. Out of sight, out of mind.’

‘You’ll worry about it, I know. But you can’t do anything. You’re just a brown rider. He’s a bronze and he’s in bed with a Weyrwoman.’

‘Thanks for your confidence, M’rell. I’ve not done badly so far.’

‘True. But don’t push your luck. Leave him alone. If he wants to stay down south, all the better for us.’

M’rell was right about one thing; he did worry about it. The only respite he had was during the training session, when his mind was otherwise occupied. The youngsters were coming together well as a Wing and Gr’lon and his brown dragon passed all the tests he set them. R’gul was just being fussy, he thought, refusing to have the man back.

‘How did I do?’ Gr’lon asked, once they were back on the ground.

‘Perfectly. If it was down to me, I’d be happy to have you in my Wing.’

He grinned. ‘Thanks. So, will you put in a good word?’

‘Of course. I need to speak to F’nor about another matter, so I’ll mention it at the same time. There’ll be a space for you somewhere, I’m sure.’

Herebeth chose that moment to butt in. _Piroth’s rider wants to see you. It is urgent._

What could he want? _Best drop me off at his weyr, then._

_He is not in his weyr. He is in the infirmary._

_What?_ This didn’t sound like good news. _Tell him I’ll be right there._

He made his way over, a feeling of dread in his stomach. He’d seen R’feem at breakfast that morning and he’d been fine then, apart from grumbling about having to attend yet another meeting.

Maybe the Wingleader was attending to someone else. What if J’rud had taken a turn for the worse? He’d looked fine earlier, but who knows what might have happened. During the few minutes it took to walk the short distance, his imagination played its usual tricks so that by the time he arrived, he was prepared for more or less any calamity. Instead, the place was calm; the healers going about their usual duties in unflustered fashion.

He spotted J’rud, on his crutches, carrying a basket of bandages. At least he looked all right. ‘Have you seen R’feem?’

‘Yes. He’s just over there.’ J’rud nodded his head to his left.

‘What’s up? All I got from Herebeth was that it was urgent.’

‘He’ll probably want to tell you himself.’

R’feem was sitting in one of the treatment bays, two healers with him. His right arm was bandaged and in a sling. ‘Ah, D’gar. Glad you could make it.’ His tone was casual, but there was a hint of pain in his voice.

‘What have you done to yourself?’

He grimaced. ‘Tripped down the steps from the council room. They tell me my wrist’s broken.’

One of the healers nodded. ‘You’re lucky it’s a clean break. Should heal up in around eight sevendays, so long as you don’t aggravate it.’

D’gar thought quickly. There was no way he’d be able to catch firestone sacks during Fall. ‘So that means you’re out of action?’

‘I’m afraid so, for the time being. That’s why I needed to see you.’

‘What can I do to help?’

He smiled through the pain. ‘Well, you’re just going to have to lead the Wing for me.’

‘What? But I don’t have the experience. I’m not old enough…’

‘You made a pretty good job of it in the south.’

‘That was once. It might have been a fluke.’

‘Sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it. Would you rather have B’lin leading?’ There was humour in his tone.

D’gar didn’t really think B’lin was the right man for the job, but didn’t want to seem disloyal to a colleague. ’He’s… all right.’

‘Competent, yes, I’d agree with you there and he’s been a Wingsecond for considerably longer than you have. But…’

D’gar knew exactly what R’feem was implying. B’lin was a follower, not a leader. ‘I know what you’re trying to say.’

‘Well, then, it has to be you. And your first duty is to help me get up to my weyr.’

They rode up on Herebeth, as he was smaller than Piroth. Even so, it wasn’t easy for R’feem to get on board without jarring his splinted arm. He looked even more pale and drawn by the time they got there. ‘You need some fellis,’ D’gar said. He was surprised they hadn’t given R’feem a dose of it already.

‘I don’t want to fall asleep yet and that stuff always knocks me out. They’ve slathered numbweed on my arm. It’ll do for now. You can pour me some wine, though.’ He sat in his comfortable chair, head back against the padding. D’gar brought him a cup of wine; Benden white, he could tell from the distinctive bouquet. 

‘Have one yourself as well.’

‘Better not. I’m going to need a clear head.’ He sat opposite R’feem. ‘Look, I really appreciate your faith in me but are you sure this is going to work? Aren’t people going to object?’

‘One or two, maybe. R’gul for sure, but he’s not Weyrleader.’ He took a sip and sighed. ‘As I’ve said before, everyone in the Wing respects you. I promoted you for good reason; because I knew you’d be capable of taking over if anything happened to me.’

‘In Fall, yes.’ If a Wingleader or his dragon was injured, a Wingsecond was expected to be able to carry on. That was why they had a meeting beforehand; to ensure everyone knew what the plans were for the forthcoming Fall.

‘And to cover for a Wingleader where necessary. You’ve seen it happen before, at Fort. Remember when Rolth strained a wing? He was out for several Falls and Z’los’s Wingsecond took over until he was fit enough to fly again.’

That was true. He nodded. ‘It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. When we had to go and fight Thread in the south, I didn’t have time to think about it.’

‘Well, you’ve the time now. And being able to think through a problem is one of your strengths. I don’t want anyone else leading my Wing and I’ll tell the Weyrleader that when I see him. He’s a sensible man, for all that he has a few outlandish ideas.’

‘Well, I suppose so.’ It still seemed a big step, but he was warming to the idea. He knew, deep down, that he had the ability to do the job well. He’d certainly be better at it than some of those who already held the position. He decided to break the news to Herebeth. _How do you feel about leading the Wing?_

Herebeth mulled over it for a few seconds. _I would very much like that. We have flown well. We are capable._ His confidence boosted D’gar’s own.

R’feem smiled. ‘Your dragon reckons it’s a good idea. I can tell.’

‘He does. And now I’ve had a chance to get over the initial shock, I think the same.’

‘Good. I knew you’d come round.’ He took another drink and gave D’gar a calculating look. ‘Better start considering who you’re going to pick as the other Wingsecond. It’ll be only temporary, of course, until I’m fit again. I know who I’d have, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.’

D’gar suddenly remembered M’rell was back at Benden. M’rell had always wanted to be Wingsecond; he’d been bitterly disappointed when he’d not been given the job before. And yet, now he was in the position to choose, he knew why R’feem hadn’t picked him. Like B’lin, M’rell wasn’t a leader. He followed orders well, but he was inclined to be impulsive and didn’t always consider the consequences of his actions. ‘That’s a tough choice to make,’ he said. ‘Because I know who wants the job, but I’m not sure he’s the one who should have it. And if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to be upset with me.’

‘Who’s that, then?’

‘M’rell. He’s fit to fight again, in case you’d not heard.’

‘I hadn’t.’

‘I saw him earlier today.’

R’feem spoke quietly. ‘You’re Wingleader. You need to consider what’s best for the Wing. Out of all our riders, who would be most effective as Wingsecond?’

D’gar didn’t have to give it too much thought. Putting aside what M’rell wanted was easy when you thought about it like that - although it wouldn’t stop M’rell feeling as if he’d been passed over again. ‘V’vil from High Reaches. He’s been a Wingsecond before. He knows his stuff.’ He counted out the points on his fingers. ‘He’s more than capable of taking over, if the need arises.’

R’feem nodded. ‘My thoughts, too.’ He sighed. ‘It should have been him from the start, rather than F’drun. Only F’drun’s record looked better and he convinced me he was the man for the job.’

‘Anyone can make mistakes.’

‘I know.’ He laughed briefly, then turned serious. ‘You know, you wouldn’t even have dreamed of saying anything like that to me a Turn ago. But then, when S’brin was around, you never really spoke up for yourself.’

It was true. S’brin had been such a big personality that it hadn’t really mattered he was just a green rider. From the time they were kids, he had always been the leader; the risk-taker. D’gar had followed him unquestioningly, firstly as a friend and then as a lover. It had led him into trouble sometimes, but he hadn’t cared. R’feem could only view their relationship from the outside; he didn’t fully understand the bond they’d shared.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that…’ he ventured, when D’gar didn’t respond.

‘No. It’s true, up to a point. It was just how we were. That’s why T’garrin always had me down to Impress a green and him a blue. Well, until the first Hatching, anyway. I Impressed second time.’

‘I know. I was there. You should have got that bronze the first time you stood.’

D’gar started. He’d not thought anyone else had noticed. S’brin had been sick with a fever when Loranth’s eggs had hatched and he’d done his best to be ignored; not too difficult when there were a lot more candidates than eggs. You had to think happy, welcoming thoughts when the young dragons hatched. If you closed your mind off, then they’d overlook you and go for someone else. That was what he’d done, even when the bronze broke his shell and briefly looked his way. ‘I’m glad I Impressed Herebeth,’ he said defensively.

‘Of course you are. But there weren’t any bronzes in Kadoth’s clutch, were there?’

‘No.’ What was R’feem getting at? He’d never felt as if he’d ended up with second best and he wasn’t going to start now.

‘Don’t get upset,’ R’feem said. ‘I’m just trying to point out that the colour of your dragon isn’t everything. We both know there are some bronze riders who aren’t fit to lead a herd beast to water and some greens who are clever and thoughtful. Like your H’rek, for example. All I’m saying is that if there’d been any bronzes in that clutch, you’d have been a good match and it might have made your life easier. But you’ve got the right qualities to lead a Wing, brown or bronze dragon aside.’

‘I’ll do my best for you. For everyone.’

‘Good. And remember, I’ll still be around to give you advice.’ He drained the last of his wine. ‘Better have a refill. Come on, have a drink with me to celebrate, then I’ll take some fellis, have a nap and we can break it to the rest of the Wing at dinner.’

D’gar went back to his Weyr. He wanted nothing more than to tell his good news to H’rek, but it wouldn’t be right to do that before everyone in the Wing found out. Realistically, he knew this was the best moment of his unforeseen promotion; the euphoria of success that would inevitably be tempered by the reality of doing a difficult job. He remembered R’feem coming to visit him after S’brin had been killed; having to guide him through the grief and keep him functioning as a member of the Wing. If anyone was injured or died during Fall, he would have that responsibility. If it was due to a mistake on his own part, he knew how much worse that would be.

_You are concerned._ Herebeth could sense the turmoil of his mind. _Do not worry. We will do a good job._

_I’m sorry,_ he told his dragon. _I don’t doubt you for a moment. I just worry about myself._

_You will worry beforehand as you always do, then when we meet Thread you will do exactly what you need to._

That was true enough. _Thank you, Herebeth. You are the best dragon I could have hoped to Impress._

_And you are the only rider for me. We make a good team._

D’gar didn’t usually feel nervous the evening before Fall; his brain - and his stomach - only switched into that mode overnight. He didn’t feel quite as nauseous as that; if anything, it was more like the scared anticipation of the day he’d stepped onto the Hatching Sands for the second time, wondering if any dragon would choose him. He kept his face and his mind closed as he met the rest of the Wing in the dining hall.

M’rell came in and chose the empty spot on his left. ‘It’s good to be back,’ he commented. ‘Even if the food and the weather are rubbish. At least the company’s better.’

D’gar smiled back, wondering how long he’d feel that way once he heard the news.

When R’feem arrived, his arm visibly injured, there were whispers and nudges around the table. The fact that it was B’lin who accompanied him - he must have helped him down from the weyr this time, D’gar thought - caused more speculation and several sideways glances in his direction. M’rell nudged him. ‘What’s up with R’feem?’

There was no point lying, when he knew. ‘Fell down some steps and broke his wrist, I heard.’

‘Seems to be favouring B’lin. I’d not have thought he’d choose an Igen rider over one of his own.’

‘He’ll choose whoever’s most capable, no favouritism involved.’ Maybe that would prepare M’rell for what was coming. Probably not though. M’rell didn’t think things through the way he did.

R’feem settled himself, then tapped on one of the tin plates a couple of times. It took only moments to get everyone’s attention as they’d been half way there already. ‘You’ve probably noticed this,’ he raised the sling slightly. ‘It’s just a broken wrist, but it means I’ll be unable to fight Thread for a few sevendays. I’ve had a chat with both my Wingseconds earlier on and you’ll be pleased to hear D’gar will be leading this Wing until I’m mended.’

D’gar felt all the eyes swivel in his direction as R’feem beckoned him over. Those few paces to the end of the table had never felt so far. R’feem must already have loosened his knots and he ceremonially handed them over. ‘Fly well.’

Someone started banging on the table and there were a few cheers. At the other tables, riders swivelled around to see what was happening.

D’gar held the knots loosely. ‘Thank you,’ he said to R’feem, then turned to the rest of the Wing. ‘I hope I’ll make as good a job of leading you as R’feem has done. Hopefully, I’ve learned a few tricks from him over the Turns.’

R’feem patted him on the back with his uninjured hand.

‘Tomorrow morning, we ride Fall over Benden Hold. I’ll be having a meeting, as usual, once we get weather reports and any other information.’ He scanned all the familiar faces. Now for the difficult part. ‘B’lin will, of course, be continuing as Wingsecond, but until R’feem’s fit to resume his usual role, we’ll need a replacement for me.’ He didn’t dare look at M’rell as he made the announcement. ‘I’ve decided that the temporary Wingsecond position will be filled by V’vil and Bitath.’

The High Reaches riders cheered loudly. V’vil grinned. He deserved it, D’gar knew, after all the problems he’d had in the past. ‘That’s it for now. Enjoy your dinner and if you’ve any questions, you know where to find me.’ He returned to his previous seat, several riders clapping him on the back as he passed.

M’rell sat in stony silence. ‘You knew already,’ he said, accusingly.

‘Yes, but I couldn’t exactly say anything before R’feem did.’

‘Well, thanks for looking after your old friends.’

‘That’s not how it works…’ He started to try and explain, but M’rell got to his feet.

‘Think I’d better move. This end of the table is too exalted for the likes of me.’

On his other side, T’garrin leaned forward. ‘Don’t worry. He’s just disappointed. He’ll come round.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He tried to put it to the back of his mind. He had more things than M’rell’s attitude to worry about now.


	33. Wingleader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thread falls over the vineyards for D'gar's first time as Wingleader

Threadfall morning again. D’gar hadn’t slept well. His brain had refused to switch off and he’d spent most of the hours of darkness thinking through the various tactics that might be suitable for today’s Fall, depending on weather conditions. When the grey light of dawn started to filter under the curtain, it was a relief to know that the night was finally over.

His stomach was no worse than usual, thankfully. He’d have liked to just get a cup of klah served in his weyr, but R’feem had always insisted on the Wing having breakfast together prior to Threadfall and it wasn’t something he wanted to change. He dressed, noticing again the extra weight of the Wingleader’s knots on his shoulder. Later on, at some point, he’d have to surprise H’rek with the news. But first he’d need to attend all of those interminable post-Fall meetings R’feem always moaned about, so it would probably be much later than he’d normally manage to get away afterwards.

Herebeth was in a cheerful mood. _We lead the Wing today. I am looking forward to it._

_Me too._ That wasn’t entirely a lie. He knew he was capable of doing a good job and that R’feem wouldn’t have handed over if he’d not had full confidence in his abilities. His main worry was about making mistakes that affected the rest of the Wing; of putting other riders and their dragons in unnecessary danger.

He got to the dining hall before most of the others. Not really surprising. The sun still wasn’t above the rim of the Bowl and Fall wasn’t due to start until mid-morning. Before that, he’d need to go to the Wingleaders’ meeting to find out all the latest information, then pass it on to his Wingseconds and decide how they were going to handle this one.

Drudges were just starting to bring out the breakfast dishes. The clatter of plates and the rumble of the wheels on their trollies echoed around the almost empty space. He waited until they’d finished before pouring a cup of klah with plenty of sweetener and filling a bowl with his usual porridge, which looked as unappetising as ever.

‘You’re up early.’ F’nor joined him, grabbing a couple of eggs and a few sweet rolls from the table.

He gave a quick smile. ‘Couldn’t sleep for thinking. Thought I might as well get breakfast while it wasn’t too busy.’

‘I heard the news. Congratulations.’

‘I’d rather R’feem hadn’t been injured.’

‘Of course. Still, only way a brown’s going to get a chance to lead a Wing, isn’t it?’

D’gar had almost forgotten those odd customs at Benden. ‘Not from our point of view, although I’d have probably had to wait until I was a lot older. Brown dragons can do most things as well as bronzes.’

‘Except catch a queen.’

‘Check your records and you’ll find they’ve even done that a few times over the Turns.’

‘Really? Is that so?’ He looked mildly surprised. ‘Not that I’d ever want to set Canth against Mnementh, though and I’d definitely discourage him from going after Prideth.’

‘I can see the reason for that.’

He grinned. ‘Mind if I join you to eat this.’

‘Fine, if you don’t mind sitting with us old timers.’ D’gar led the way to the usual table.

F’nor tucked in to his food. He must be one of those lucky folk whose appetite was unaffected by nerves. ‘Just thought I should warn you that some of the more hidebound traditionalists aren’t going to be too happy about your promotion, even if it is only temporary.’

‘I suspected as much. Still, nothing they can really do about it.’ He stirred his porridge and wondered if it he could face a spoonful. Maybe not yet.

‘You might do best not to annoy them. F’lar’s on your side, but he has enough trouble keeping them all in line that he doesn’t need any more aggravation.’

‘I understand that. I’m not planning on saying very much at any of the meetings, anyway. You can learn more by listening.’ He had a sip of klah. The warmth of it always helped settle his stomach.

‘True. By the way, how did Gr’lon get on with your lads yesterday?’

‘Pretty well. He’d not be a liability in Fall. Someone should give him a chance to prove it.’

‘We’ll try to find a space for him.’

‘Well, if you can’t, we certainly will.’

F’nor smiled. ‘Are you poaching our riders?’

‘I’d rather not see a good pair sit on the sidelines. He’s not keen on being sent south as his weyrmate’s based here.’ That reminded him of the other matter he wanted to discuss. ‘I heard some unsettling news about what’s going on in Southern that I think you should know about.’

‘Don’t tell me it’s Kylara again.’

‘Not her exactly, more who she’s taken up with. F’drun. Apparently he’s started pushing folk around and one of them is that young lad from your Wing, C’vash.’

F’nor raised an eyebrow. ‘How did you find this out?’

‘One of our wingriders came back yesterday and told me. It concerns me, too, as his weyrmate’s in my Wing.’ He wondered if he should tell F’nor any of the other information he’d found out about F’drun, but then some of the wingriders began to arrive and the moment passed. F’nor, having finished his own breakfast, refilled his klah, then left as the tables began to fill up.

D’gar ate his porridge mechanically, knowing that he should get some food inside his stomach; it was a good four hour Fall today and he’d need the energy.

B’lin came over to sit with him. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Not so badly, so far.’ He wondered if B’lin was feeling the same way as M’rell. ‘Listen, I hope you aren’t upset that R’feem chose me to lead while he’s out of action.’

‘Not in the slightest. Rather you than me. Not that I don’t think I could lead a Fall, it’s all the other stuff. Meetings and politics. Not really my cup of klah.’

‘Thanks. Think you could manage the admin for the time being?’ He didn’t really want to turn it over as he’d just got it nicely organised, but he recognised the need to delegate responsibility, if only to get some free time.

‘Sure. I’ll pick it up later, at our meeting.’

‘I’ll have Herebeth bespeak Ondiath when we’re ready.’ Absently, he wondered if the Wingleaders’ meetings were announced the same way, or if that was another way that Benden diverged from the normal practice.

Most of the Wing had already congratulated him the previous evening, so they got on with their breakfast. M’rell came down late - he’d had too much to drink the night before, which was normal for him - and took care to sit as far as possible from D’gar.

B’lin evidently noticed. ‘Your friend seems upset.’

‘He’s always wanted to be Wingsecond. He wasn’t entirely happy when I got the job rather than him and he likes it even less that I didn’t automatically promote him.’

‘I can see his point.’

‘Me too. But I needed someone with prior experience and V’vil is the only man who’s got that. I’ll have a word with M’rell later, try and talk it through.’

‘I take it you’ll put him in my section.’

D’gar nodded. ‘It’ll cause less friction that way.’ He realised that while he’d been talking, he’d managed to finish up his porridge and that it wasn’t sitting too uneasily on his stomach. He’d just got himself a refill of klah when Herebeth sent a message. _Mnementh asks for you to be in the council room in ten minutes._

_Tell him I have the message._ Well, this was it. Time to face the Benden Wingleaders. As he was leaving, he passed R’feem in the doorway.

‘Just off to the meeting,’ he said.

R’feem nodded. ‘Sit with W’lir and try not to let them get to you. Most of them are fine, once you get used to their ways.’ He smiled. ‘I enjoyed having a lie in this morning. See you later.’

D’gar made his way to the council room. It wouldn’t do to be late for his first meeting. F’lar was already there, as would be expected of the Weyrleader and two of the other Benden Wingleaders were just getting settled. He recognised S’lel and K’net. K’net gave him a quick smile, probably understanding how he must be feeling as the newest and youngest among them and gestured to the seat next to his.

D’gar sat down. ‘Thanks.’ He took a sip of klah, then studied the map that had been pinned up, showing the terrain they’d be covering today. It was almost the same area as the first Fall they’d fought after arriving at Benden. Hard to comprehend how much had happened since then.

A few more arrived, W’lir among them. He took the seat on D’gar’s other side and leaned close. ‘This shouldn’t take too long,’ he said quietly. ‘Looks fairly straightforward today. You’ll do fine.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ He didn’t want to fall into the mistake of being overconfident.

Once everyone was settled, F’lar spoke. ‘I’ve just had the first weather reports. Partial cloud over most of the area, although it’s fairly high and looks as if it might clear later. Winds are light and from a westerly direction. We’ll have an update closer to Fall, but it’s looking as if we’re not going to get wet this time around.’

There were a few chuckles around the table. ‘About time we had some decent weather this season,’ W’lir commented. ‘Don’t think my wherhide’s had a chance to dry out since we got here and Araeth says he’s never felt so well-washed.’

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that summer does get to Benden eventually,’ F’lar said lightly, evidently noting the black looks W’lir’s comments had provoked from some of his Wingleaders. ‘So, back to business. You’re on sweep duty today, S’lan. And K’net, your Wing’s on clean-up afterwards. I’m sure I don’t have to explain how vital it is not to let any burrows spread in the vineyards or I’ll have Lord Raid on my back again.’

‘So long as the lower levels don’t miss too much we should be fine,’ K’net commented. ‘Who’s flying which positions today?’

‘As you so rightly pointed out, the lower levels are the last line of defence, so I’m sure your Wing will do an excellent job there along with D’gar.’

R’gul gave a snort. ‘So we’re relying on an inexperienced brown rider to keep the vineyards intact.’

D’gar had intended to stay quiet at the meeting, but he couldn’t let the slight go. ‘I’ve fought Thread for five Turns. How many Falls have you ridden?’ It was an indubitable truth. Beside him, W’lir nodded and made an approving noise.

‘Thank you, R’gul. I’m glad you drew our attention to the fact we’ve a new Wingleader present today. I’m sure you’ll all give D’gar your full support and remember that although leading a Wing may be new to him, fighting Thread certainly isn’t. R’feem is fully confident in his ability and that’s good enough for me.’

R’gul subsided with a low mutter to his neighbour, S’lan. D’gar forced himself to appear unconcerned as the briefing continued. As W’lir had surmised, it didn’t go on for too long and at the end of it he had a clear picture of today’s tactics and his Wing’s role. On the way out, he called for Herebeth and returned to his weyr, asking his dragon to call for Ondiath and Bitath’s riders to join him there shortly.

B’lin and V’vil soon arrived and between them, they worked out the positions of the dragons within the formation and the shift order for the blues and greens.

‘Just the Queens’ Wing below us today, so let’s not give them too much work,’ D’gar told them. ‘The Weyrleader’s rightly concerned about burrows in the vineyards and we’re all partial to a drop of Benden white, so it’s in our interest to keep as much as we can from getting through.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ B’lin quipped. He seemed in a good mood this morning.

‘Right then. If you want to form the Wing up and get them started chewing firestone, I’ll be with you shortly.’

B’lin left first on Ondiath. As V’vil waited for Bitath to land he said, ‘I appreciate you giving the job to me. Most folk would favour someone from their own Weyr.’

‘R’feem’s never done that and I’m not about to start. Besides, you’ve the experience.’ It hadn’t been V’vil’s fault he was demoted, just another example of F’drun’s bad attitude.

Once they’d gone, he sat for a few minutes to get his thoughts together, then set to gathering all that he needed for Fall. Only after he’d got the fighting straps on Herebeth and checked them for the second time, did he realise he’d been kept so busy this morning he’d not had time to feel sick. Well, that had to be a good thing.

_Are we ready?_

_I reckon so._ He mounted up and let Herebeth glide down to the Bowl, where the Wing - his Wing! - were assembling. Selecting a couple of sacks, he fed Herebeth several chunks and while he was working his way through them, took a walk round to check that all the dragons and riders were fit and ready to fight.

M’rell was still glowering so D’gar took the opportunity to take him to one side. ‘Just thought we should have a talk before Fall.’

‘What about? You obviously didn’t think I was good enough…’

‘No, that’s not it at all. I’m sure you’d be able to do the job, given some training, but V’vil’s done it before. I’m new to this, so I wanted two fully experienced Wingseconds there to support me.’

‘You could have said something to me beforehand.’ He sounded hurt.

‘I should have done. I’m sorry.’ There hadn’t really been time, but apologising never did any harm. ‘Don’t take it personally. I still think you and Toth are one of the best pairs in the Wing.’

M’rell didn’t say anything to that, although he looked slightly less sullen.

D’gar knew him well enough to lay the praise on more thickly. ‘I’m really glad you came back when you did. Let’s get up there and show these Benden riders how to fight Thread. All right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fly well.’ It was the traditional pre-Fall saying.

‘You too.’

Feeling slightly more happy that M’rell understood his reasons, he gave Herebeth more firestone and secured the sacks to his straps. All around the Bowl now, dragons of all colours were forming up. Their sense of anticipation to meet their old enemy fed through, as always to the riders. He watched his wing mates go through their habitual routines; T’garrin’s walk around his dragon, V’chal leaning against Lilith’s right foreleg as he surveyed the riders around him and worked out who he would be bedding later. D’gar caught his eye and looked away quickly before he got the wrong idea.

‘All good?’

He turned to see R’feem. ‘I reckon so.’

‘Piroth and I are on support duty today. Not much I can do to help, but at least he’ll do his bit if it’s needed.’

Herebeth crunched his way through a large piece of stone beside them. ‘J’rud said they’d got him fetching and carrying, so at least he’ll be able to lend a hand. T’sum’s a good sort, too. His dragon’s recovering from a bad wing score.’

R’feem nodded. ‘Well, I’ll see you later. Fly well. I know you’ll do us proud.’ He gave D’gar his customary pat on the shoulder and strolled off toward the infirmary.

_Is everyone nearly ready,_ he asked Herebeth.

_I shall find out._

F’lar was helping Lessa to mount Ramoth. She looked shaky, D’gar thought, watching them for a short while. Hopefully nothing serious, although everyone was ill now and then and it had to be fairly bad for someone to miss Fall. Around her a motley assortment of recuperating dragons and riders made up a small Queens’ Wing. All of the youngsters still at Benden were on firestone duties, together with many of the riders whose dragons were unable to fight due to injury.

_We are ready to fly,_ Herebeth responded.

_Good. Then tell the riders to mount up and their dragons to assume take-off position._ He climbed on board himself, fastening and checking the straps again before pulling on his gloves. To their left, S’lel’s Wing was preparing to fly. He signalled to S’lel, letting them go first. The downdraught from their wings stirred the air and sent tiny flurries of dust up from the landing area. Looks like the ground really is starting to dry up, he thought, as Herebeth relayed his instructions and he gave the signal for the Wing to ascend.

The came out of _between_ in almost perfect formation. Below them stretched the seemingly endless lines of grapevines, the newly emerged leaves almost the exact same colour as Rioth’s hide. A group of men on ground crew duty stood outside their stone shelter, shielding their eyes against the sun as the dragons flew overhead. As predicted, the cloud had thinned and patches of blue sky were visible. The wind was light enough not to affect even the smaller dragons. All in all, you couldn’t wish for a better day to fight Thread.

_Piyanth’s rider asks if we start on the southern edge of Fall._

_Tell him yes._ It had already been sorted out at the meeting, but there was no harm in double checking. _Formations as agreed, given that weather’s looking fine. Ask Ondiath and Bitath to be ready to move into fighting formation._ He scanned the north-eastern sky for the first signs of leading edge, although it was probably a little early yet. They always arrived at the Fall area in good time; even with F’lar’s maps, Fall sometimes began slightly earlier - or later - than predicted. It might be something to do with the weather conditions far above the height a dragon could fly, he mused. While they waited, they flew the usual pattern, ensuring they would be in the right place when Thread was sighted. As they did, he watched the dragons in the Wing, noting how each were flying. It was clear enough today that he could see everyone. At the far end of the left hand chevron, Bitath’s bronze hide gleamed in the sun.

_Sweep dragons report first sight of leading edge. It is patchy, they say._

Another mystery; why Thread sometimes fell evenly like rain, other times as clumps or in long filaments. Patchy Thread usually meant less of it, but the irregular nature meant dragons had to move in and out of formation more frequently and they would need to keep up a dialogue with those to either side to ensure everyone knew exactly who was taking which patch. _Inform Ondiath and Bitath please and ask them to pass it on to their sections._ He made a final check of his straps, tightening them fully so that no matter what aerobatic moves Herebeth pulled, he wouldn’t slip. _Fighting formations on my signal._ He checked either side, then gave the sign at the same time Herebeth issued the command. The Wing re-formed smoothly in just a few seconds. Even the two Benden dragons kept their positions perfectly. Part of his mind hoped that R’gul had been watching.

_I see Thread._ Herebeth’s eyes picked it out before he did. Then came Mnementh’s roar and the first flames high in the sky as another Fall began.

This Fall was definitely patchy, with plenty of clear space between each tangle of silvery Threads. However, most of the tangles were so large that a blue or green alone couldn’t flame the whole lot in one breath. It soon became obvious that the dragons in the sky above them were struggling, as several partially charred yet still viable bunches began to find their way through.

_They cannot clear it efficiently,_ Herebeth said. _This is not working well._

_What else can we do?_ D’gar suddenly remembered he’d seen Thread fall like this before. It had been just a Turn or so after he’d joined R’feem’s Wing and he recalled how the Wingleader had dealt with the situation. You paired a blue or green with a brown or bronze and where you ran out of pairs due to having less browns and bronzes, you put what blues or greens were left together so they didn’t have to try and attack the tangles alone. He quickly ran through the permutations in his head, while Herebeth shrivelled one of the larger bunches with his fiery breath, then had him send the relevant information to the Wingseconds.

_They hear us,_ Herebeth reported. _They have both seen Fall like this before as well and know what you intend. They instruct their sections to pair up now._

_Can you explain it to Piyanth too? And Mnementh._ The Weyrleader’s dragon could then pass it through to the other Wingleaders.

_I will try to explain._

He suddenly had a better idea. Lessa was one of those rare Weyrwomen who could hear all dragons, he’d been told. If Herebeth spoke directly to her, the information would be passed on far more swiftly and be less open to misunderstanding. Plus, the hidebound old fools would be more likely to comply with a Weyrwoman’s instructions. _Scrap that. Tell it direct to Lessa._

He watched as his Wing re-formed itself. Inevitably, during the shuffle, some Thread got through. Couldn’t be helped. Some of the dragons in the Queens’ Wing were already pairing up, meaning Lessa must have got the message and they went _between_ to intercept the falling bundles before they reached the ground.

_Ramoth tells me to tell you Lessa has understood and that she thanks you._

From the Wingleader’s position, he had a clear picture of how well the dragons were coping. Messages were flashing to and fro, relayed by the Wingleaders’ and Wingseconds’ dragons. Within a few minutes, all of the Wings had re-structured themselves and were managing this unusual Fall far more effectively.

Herebeth paired up with Zath and they fought together through the first part of Fall. By the time it came to swap out, all of the replacements knew exactly what they were meant to be doing and which dragons they would be paired with. The shift change went very smoothly, all in all.

During the second half, he was with Lilith. They worked even better as a team. D’gar mentioned it to his dragon.

_I like Lilith,_ he said. _She is a very nimble green._

Lilith seemed almost flirtatious at times, when the dragons weren’t occupied with flaming Thread. D’gar found himself hoping fervently that Herebeth wouldn’t take it into his head to chase her the next time she rose.

Time had no meaning when you were busy fighting Thread. D’gar was only aware of its passing by the change in the sun’s position and his aching muscles. Eventually, the vineyards ended and after some twenty minutes of flying above rough grazing land, they finally reached the mountains, where Thread could continue to fall unhindered until the Fall ended. Herebeth called the dragons back to their standard formation and they returned to the Weyr, grubby and tired from their exertions.

Back on the ground, he made his usual checks, in case Herebeth had been scored and not felt the pain in the heat of the action. Then he went round the Wing, making sure everyone else was fine.

‘I’ve not seen a Fall like that for a couple of Turns,’ V’vil said. ‘Last time was over Pars Hold around forty-seven, I think.’

‘Yeah, we had a couple like that as well,’ B’lin said. ‘Difficult in some ways, but did you notice, there were a lot less injuries.’

D’gar hadn’t - he’d other things on his mind - but now that B’lin mentioned it he could see there were far fewer dragons than normal waiting for treatment over by the infirmary. ‘Must be due to the big bunches. Much easier to see and avoid.’ He carried on making his way round.

M’rell certainly seemed in a better mood. ‘That was well done,’ he said. ‘I don’t reckon R’feem could have changed us around any quicker.’

‘Thanks. Are you both fine?’

‘Tired. Think we got a bit out of shape, lounging around down south.’ He slapped Toth’s shoulder. ‘He’ll soon get into it again.’

V’chal was removing Lilith’s straps. He smiled broadly as D’gar approached. ‘Lilith thinks Herebeth’s a fine dragon, she just told me. You’re not so bad either.’

‘You fought well,’ D’gar said, trying to keep it professional.

V’chal threw one of the loops around his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. ‘There’s more than this for you later, if you’re interested,’ he whispered as he nuzzled D’gar’s neck. ‘I like it when you’re in charge.’

D’gar smiled back. ‘Better not, tempting though it is. H’rek wouldn’t be happy.’ He extricated himself from V’chal’s embrace just as R’feem turned up.

‘Well, I never got that sort of appreciation,’ the Wingleader commented. ‘I’m deeply hurt.’

‘Never know,’ V’chal winked at him. ‘Your luck might be in next time.’

‘What happened up there?’ he asked. ‘Not many injuries today, I noticed.’

‘It was a patchy Fall. Like that one we had over Hold Gar a while back.’

He nodded. ‘So you got them to pair up?’

‘Yes. I remembered how you’d fought it last time.’

‘Well done.’ He patted D’gar on the shoulder, as was his way. ‘Knew I could rely on you.’


	34. Meetings and Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Fall, D'gar finds out what ails Lessa. At Southern Weyr, all is not well.

‘Might I just congratulate the Weyrwoman on her excellent advice at the start of Fall today.’ R’gul raised his cup of klah and made a slight bow towards Lessa, who was sitting in one of the chairs around the council table. ‘If you’d not come up with such clever solution, we might have let a fair amount of Thread get through.’

She gave a slight smile. ‘You’d be welcome, R’gul, except it wasn’t my idea. I simply passed the message on, thanks to my ability to speak to all dragons.’

He looked confused. ‘Then whose was it?’

Lessa turned her gaze on D’gar and broadened her smile. He sensed it wasn’t just due to gratitude for coming up with a solution but also because it enabled her to correct R’gul in front of the other Wingleaders. ‘Why, D’gar's, of course.’

R’gul’s face fell. Beside him, W’lir grinned. D’gar felt all eyes on him and tried not to blush. ‘I’d seen Fall like that before, so I knew what worked best. I expect W’lir figured it out, too.’

W’lir nodded. ‘That sort of Fall isn’t particularly frequent, but I’ve had a couple like that, too. By the time I gave orders for my Wing to re-form, I noticed you’d already started to do the same.’

‘Quick thinking, D’gar,’ F’lar said. ‘Well done. I’ve noted a few references to irregular Fall patterns in the records but reading about it doesn’t always give the full picture. If only we knew why every Fall isn’t exactly the same, it would help a lot in planning tactics.’

‘Sadly, no-one knows the exact reasons. I’ve seen some theories in our archives at Fort that it might be connected with conditions high up in the atmosphere or even something to do with our proximity to the moons.’

‘The moons!’ R’gul had recovered his composure. ‘How could they possibly affect Thread?’

‘Well, they affect the oceans, so why not?’ D’gar stated. ‘Although, I agree, it’s hard to prove one way or another. A dragon can’t fly that high.’ He turned to F’lar. ‘Maybe some of the other Weyrleaders might have a better idea. I’m no expert, just quoting what I’ve read.’

‘I’ll be sure to ask them next time we meet. Sharing information is never a bad thing. Anyway, I think what we need to take from today is the importance of being able to react quickly to changing conditions. Has anyone any suggestions as to any other ways we could have ridden this Fall?’

‘Here we go,’ W’lir hissed in D’gar’s right ear. ‘Now for the boring part.’

Oddly, he didn’t find the post-Fall meeting as tedious as he’d been led to believe. Maybe there really were lessons to be learned from each Fall? Perhaps because Benden was new to the game they didn’t just take it for granted that it was always necessary to do things the same old way. By the time they finished, he was buzzing with a mixture of too much klah and fresh ideas.

On the way down the steps - which he was very careful negotiating, bearing in mind what had happened to R’feem - he noticed Lessa slumped on a seat beside the map of Pern, as if she had only managed to walk that far before feeling the need to rest.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ He thought he should ask. Seeing her like that reminded him uncomfortably of Valli’s slow decline. Admittedly the Fort weyrwoman had been much older, but her final illness had started with just a few small symptoms.

She gave him a quick look. ‘Nothing that time won’t cure.’

‘Well, if I can do anything to help…’

‘I’m fine, honestly.’ She paused for a moment before looking at him shrewdly. ‘Do you think anyone else has noticed?’

He shrugged. ‘I noticed the Weyrleader had to help you onto Ramoth this morning. You don’t look well and everyone in a Weyr is concerned with the health of their Weyrwoman, so yes, I expect they will have done.’

‘Hmm. I was wondering how long it’d take. Oh, well. They’ll have to be told sooner or later, so we might as well get it over with.’

Now he was getting really worried. Had the huge jump _between_ to fetch the Weyrs caused adverse effects on her health?

His concern must have shown on his face, for she gave a small smile, then said, ‘Can you keep a secret, just for a short while, until we announce it officially.’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘That’s wonderful news. Congratulations.’ It was a relief to hear she wasn’t seriously ill. Now the comment about time curing the condition made sense.

‘Thanks. Manora tells me that once I’m past the early stages I should start to feel better, but right now everything makes me tired and the thought of food…’ she grimaced. ‘I wondered if I was going to see my breakfast again this morning.’

‘I’m like that before every Fall,’ he said, just to reassure her. ‘Porridge helps.’

‘I’ll try that. Now I think I’ll go and have a lie down while Ramoth’s having a nap. She keeps telling me she doesn’t know what I’m fussing about. After all, I’m only having one - or at the most two - babies and she’s going to lay a lot more eggs than that.’

‘Dragons, huh?’ He left the weyr, being sure not to disturb Ramoth on his way past.

_Herebeth. Can you let the rest of the Wing know we’re meeting shortly in the dining hall._ He’d keep it brief, then give them the rest of the afternoon off. _And after that, we’re heading south._

_Good. I can catch more fish. And eat them._

Eventually, he was able to get away, excited that at last he was going to be able to tell H’rek his news. Even from high in the air, it was clear that Southern was gradually becoming far more permanent, even if it wasn’t what would traditionally be regarded as a Weyr. Due to the time difference, it was late afternoon. A few dragons and their riders were in the sea. Others were working on another new building that had been mere foundations on his last visit. It was that time of day when people were beginning to resume tasks that had been abandoned during the hottest part of the day, he realised.

_Ask Rioth where we can find her._

_She is in the sea._ He paused. _H’rek is not with her._

_Shouldn’t be too difficult to find him._

Herebeth glided down in lazy circles, before landing on the soft sand. He looked wistfully toward the ocean. _I would like to swim now._

_You go ahead._ He removed the straps and dumped them on the sand. They’d need a good clean after today’s Fall anyway. Herebeth gave himself a shake then flew low and lazily toward the shore, sending spray in all directions as he plunged into the water. D’gar smiled. It was good to see his dragon enjoying himself. He’d flown well today.

He made his was toward the Weyrhall, unfastening his wherhide jacket as he walked. Benden was too cold; this place was too hot, he thought. Fort’s weather was a happy medium. Apart from a month or so in the winter, it was usually tolerable and the summers were generally fine without this energy-sapping humidity. Pity you couldn’t just combine the best aspects of them all in one place.

On his way, he spotted Bavi, pegging out freshly washed sheets on a line. ‘Hey, there,’ he called.

She turned. ‘Oh, you again.’

‘That’s a nice way to greet me.’ They knew each other well enough now to tease. ‘Seen H’rek?’

‘Think he’s on firestone duties. There’s supposed to be another Fall tomorrow.’ She looked uneasily up at the sky. ‘Last one for me here, thankfully.’

She’d opted to return to Benden, he knew. Not that he blamed her for that. He’d not fancy being on the ground during Fall, either.

‘I used to like it here,’ she went on. ‘Apart from her, of course.’

D’gar knew exactly who she meant. ‘Kylara being troublesome again, is she?’

She grimaced. ‘You know how difficult some women get when they’re expecting? Well, whenever Prideth’s in clutch, she’s like that. Only this time, with him around, she’s twice as bad. You can guess who I’m talking about, can’t you?’

He could, all too easily. ‘F’drun?’ M’rell had said as much.

‘Nasty piece of work, isn’t he? Thinks he can get away with anything now he’s back in her good books. I had to slap one of those young riders the other day when he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and that’s all down to his bad influence.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?’

‘I don’t reckon so. Anyway, it’s only a few more days. I just keep out of their way, much as I can.’

‘Well, it’ll be good to have you back at Benden.’

‘Not as good as getting your weyrmate back, eh?’ she laughed. ‘See you later.’

‘Sure.’ There was no point in calling Herebeth out of the sea so he began the long trek over to the firestone dump. It would have been a pleasant walk apart from the cloying heat and the way the sand dragged at his feet. Sitting with a cool drink, or having a swim would be a far more relaxing way to spend the time, especially after a four hour Fall. It was only the prospect of seeing H’rek again that spurred him on. Still, the gentle sound of the waves breaking was soothing and put him into a calm mood, until he got within sight of the firestone dump.

Even from a distance, it was clear that something was up. Several of the youngsters - H’rek included - were standing off against another group. He recognised L’cal and M’shol, plus another few he knew to be bronze riders from Prideth’s clutch.

As he came closer, the raised voices were clear. ‘Get those sharding sacks filled now,’ L’cal ordered.

‘Not unless you lot do your share as well.’ That was Av’rar.

H’rek joined in to back him up. ’Why should some of us do all of the work?’

‘Because I say so.’

He sounded arrogant, D’gar thought. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone.

Everyone swivelled to face him. They’d been so engaged in their confrontation, no-one had noticed his approach. ‘Nothing to do with you,’ L’cal said dismissively.

H’rek glanced across to him briefly. D’gar sensed he was glad of the support. ‘You’re probably right there,’ he agreed. L’cal looked slightly surprised. He must have been expecting that D’gar would immediately back up H’rek, whatever the argument. ‘How about I just sit here and listen while you get on with whatever it was you were… discussing.’

‘How about you clear off and leave this to us,’ said one of the other bronze riders. He was a heavily-built lad, used no doubt to throwing his considerable weight around.

D’gar noted how their attitude had changed since the last time he was here. Then, they’d assumed he’d been sent to supervise and accepted it. Now they were openly confrontational. He bit back his anger and smiled pleasantly. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Please, continue.’ He sat on the nearest rock and folded his arms.

‘They want us to do all the work while they sit around,’ Av’rar told him. ‘They think they’re too good to shovel firestone.’

D’gar nodded. He’d gathered that from what he’d heard as he arrived. ‘Surely it’s all of your jobs to fill up the sacks.’ He chose his next words carefully, intending to ruffle some feathers. ‘That’s what weyrlings do, after all.’

‘We’re not weyrlings.’

He’d heard the same refrain often enough from H’rek. ‘Oh, really? When did you get asked to join a Wing, then?’ He addressed M’shol, who had spoken. ‘If you ride young dragons and you aren’t in a fighting Wing, then you’re weyrlings.’

‘We’ve fought Thread a few times now,’ L’cal protested.

‘Maybe. But you’ve not been formally asked to join a Wing and you won’t be until there are enough youngsters coming up to replace you.’ It was how a Weyr - any Weyr - worked. D’gar’s own clutch had been held back because the next batch of weyrlings were almost a Turn behind. ‘Still, that’s not what this argument’s about, is it? It’s about who should or shouldn’t be shovelling firestone. Isn’t that right?’

There were a few nods and noises of agreement. ‘So, if I’ve got it right, you all…’ he gestured toward the group on his right, ‘think you shouldn’t have to do it? Might I ask why?’

‘We’re bronzes. We outrank them.’

‘Yet I’m assuming you were all sent to perform this task?’

More nods, although that was from the other group. The bronzes just stood there. L’cal still looked defiant, but the others seemed a bit less confident now.

‘So maybe I should just take this to the Weyrleader. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated to hear what you have to say.’

‘He’ll do whatever Kylara tells him,’ M’shol said. There were a few sniggers.

D’gar gave them all a cold look. ‘He’s still your Weyrleader and you should show him some respect. You might also want to consider that you’ll be returning to Benden in a few days and you wouldn’t get away with this kind of behaviour there.’ He paused to let that sink in, noticing that even L’cal looked uncomfortable at the idea.

‘Come on, let’s just get it done,’ G’kal said, picking up a shovel. ‘They only asked for a hundred sacks and we must have done nearly fifty already.’

‘I’m not filling any more unless they do as well.’ Av’rar said, holding his ground.

’I suggest you all get on with it,’ D’gar said quietly but firmly, much as R’feem did. He’d always admired that tactic and now he had a chance to put it into action.

‘And what are you going to do?’ L’cal asked.

‘Relax and enjoy the sunshine. I’ve fought a four hour Fall earlier today.’ He leaned back against the rock. It wasn’t very comfortable to tell the truth, but he wasn’t going to let them know that.

There was some grousing and muttering, but gradually they all picked up the shovels and started filling sacks. H’rek caught his eye and he winked, so that he’d know this was - mostly - for show. While they worked, he considered what might have caused the situation. He had a bad feeling F’drun might be behind it. M’rell - and those other riders - had said some of the young bronzes had been spending time with him. Maybe his ways were rubbing off on them? And if Kylara and F’drun were together, as it seemed, then he’d be able to get away with far more than he should rightly be able to.

It didn’t take too long before the sacks were ready and piled up for distribution. ‘All done?’ he asked, keeping the same pleasant tone he’d used earlier.

‘You want to count them?’ L’cal’s tone was petulant.

‘No, I’ll take your word for it.’ There looked to be plenty for what they’d need.

The group of bronze riders strode off, muttering and glancing back at him. There wasn’t anything they could do, so he didn’t worry himself too much about having upset them. The others stayed.

‘Thanks for that,’ H’rek said. ‘I’m not sure how it would have turned out if you’d not been here.’

‘You could have reported them for not doing their fair share.’

‘The trouble is, there’s no-one to keep them in hand,’ G’kal said. ‘When we were here before we had F’nor and J’cul supervising. It’s different now.’

‘They’ve been hanging around with F’drun a lot of the time,’ H’rek put in. ‘He’s told them they can all be in his Wing.’

‘His Wing? I didn’t know T’bor had promoted him.’ That didn’t sound good, if it was the case.

‘He hasn’t. But Kylara’s backing him up, so…’ H’rek tailed off, staring at his shoulder. ‘Are those Wingleader’s knots you’re wearing?’

‘You noticed at last.’ He smoothed the cords. ‘Think they suit me.’

‘Well, yes.’ He sounded concerned, rather than pleased. ‘But what’s happened to R’feem…?’

Shards! He must be thinking the worst. ‘He’s fine. Well, not fine, exactly. He broke his wrist yesterday. I’m in charge until he’s fit again.’

‘So you led the Wing in Fall today?’

‘First time, yes.’ He allowed himself a smile. ‘We did pretty well, all things told.’

H’rek grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘Good on you.’ Av’rar smiled. He, and several of the others congratulated D’gar. ‘You deserve a drink. Let’s all go back to the Weyrhall to celebrate.’

H’rek stepped back to look at D’gar again, a grin on his face. ‘This’ll really annoy those idiots.’

‘I was waiting for them to notice but it seems they were too wrapped up in their own issues.’

‘So, what happened? I want to know the whole story.’

As they made their way back to the Weyrhall he told them everything. He’d just got to the part where Lessa had taken great relish in putting R’gul right as they arrived. The sun was rapidly sinking toward the western horizon and drudges were uncovering glowbaskets. An appetising smell of roasting wherry filled the air.

‘Are you going to stay for dinner?’

‘Might as well.’

H’rek led him to a table occupied by some of the recuperating riders from Benden. They moved up to make space for the newcomers. C’vash was among them. He looked sad, D’gar thought. ’N’bras sends his greetings,’ he said, realising that C’vash was probably worrying about his weyrmate. ‘We had a good Fall earlier. He and Genlorth are fine.’

C’vash gave a shy smile. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I was back at Benden with him.’

‘Once you’re recovered, you will be.’ He wanted to say that he’d spoken to F’nor, but this wasn’t the time or place. Anyway, he had no way of knowing how long it might take F’nor to act on the information and he didn’t want to give C’vash false hope. Instead, he leaned across and lowered his voice. ‘My wingmate said F’drun has been giving you a few problems.’

C’vash nodded. ‘I try to keep away from him as much as I can.’

‘Best thing. He’s no right to bully anyone, you know. Maybe you should have a word with T’bor.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s petty stuff. Not worth bothering the Weyrleader. He’s got enough on his plate.’

‘That’s just your perception. T’bor still needs to know what’s going on in his Weyr.’ He suspected that C’vash also didn’t want to admit he couldn’t deal with it on his own. He’d been much the same, after all. ‘You might think it’s petty, but if it seems to be getting worse, or you feel like you can’t handle it, let someone else know.’

‘What are you having to drink?’ H’rek called over.

‘Just ale.’ If he had wine, he’d probably end up with a hangover. Besides, it was unlikely they had any Benden white here, or if they did, they’d not be serving it up in the Weyrhall. It amused him that he’d become so fussy over what he drank in such a short time. He turned back to C’vash. ‘Remember what I said. Don’t let F’drun make your stay here miserable.’

H’rek and G’kal brought a couple of big jugs full of ale across, plus a wineskin for those who preferred it. D’gar was glad he’d decided to stick to the ale, as it was a little while before dinner was ready and the youngsters were drinking fairly quickly. ‘Don’t forget you’re on standby for Fall tomorrow,’ he reminded them. Shells, but he sounded old and responsible all of a sudden. Just a couple of Turns ago he and S’brin had been having those wild parties, regardless of what was happening the next day.

‘Yes, Wingleader.’ H’rek nudged him and nearly made him spill his drink. ‘Oops, sorry.’

‘You will be,’ he joked back.

‘Food’s out,’ G’kal said. ‘Better get in the queue, or someone else will get all the best bits.’

As always, the food in Southern was excellent. D’gar wasn’t sure if that was because it was of a superior quality than what was tithed to the Weyr, or simply because it was far more fresh. He ate as well as he always did after Fall, making up for his scant breakfast. By the time he’d finished, the ale was having its usual effects. He’d not previously been in the Weyrhall for long enough to feel the need to empty his bladder, so he asked H’rek where the necessary was.

H’rek chuckled. ‘It’s a bit more primitive here. Follow the path to the left. You’ll find it from the smell. Or just water a tree.’

The others laughed too. ‘Yeah,’ Av’rar said. ‘We all keep a peg handy to put over our noses for when we need to use the pits.’

He left the Weyrhall, following the path, which was lit by a few glow baskets and by the pale light of Timor. The trees rustled softly; their leaves casting odd-looking shadows across the way. Out in the darkness, unfamiliar insects and animals grunted, croaked and trilled. In the sultry warmth of the tropical night, the smell of the pit latrine was ripe enough to make him feel queasy, so he opted to go behind a convenient bush instead.

It was easier finding the way back as the light shining out from the Weyrhall made it a beacon. Flying insects, attracted by the warm glow, fluttered around the eaves, then retreated as someone stepped out and began making his way along the same path. With the light behind him, he was just a silhouette. It wasn’t until they were a few paces apart that D’gar recognised F’drun. He stepped aside - the path was only wide enough for one person at a time - then, as they passed, found himself grabbed and pushed roughly against a tree.

‘Get your sharding hands off me!’ What did F’drun think he was doing now? The attack had taken him by surprise.

‘My lads tell me you were nasty to them this afternoon.’

‘They’re not “your lads”. But I can see where they got their manners from.’

F’drun leaned closer, so D’gar could smell the alcohol on his breath. ‘Don’t mess with me or you’ll regret it.’

D’gar forced himself to stay calm. ‘I think you’ll be the one regretting it. Assaulting a Wingleader is a serious offence.’

F’drun released him, throwing him off balance. ‘I saw you’d been promoted. How did you manage that?’

‘Not by sabotaging a flamethrower, like some I could mention.’ He could see from F’drun’s expression that had hit home.

‘Try proving it.’

‘I don’t need to.’ He tried to get past, but F’drun still blocked the path.

‘You might be untouchable, but there’s other ways I can get to you. Your weyrmate, for example.’

‘He's nothing to do with this. Leave him alone.'

F’drun smiled grimly. ‘You want to see what I can do? He might be off to Benden for a month, but then he’ll be back here again.’

D’gar shoved him aside. ‘You can’t hurt him, or his dragon.’ He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. ‘They’re wise to your ways now and you’ll not get away with it.’ He started to walk off.

‘Oh, won’t I?’ F’drun taunted. ‘Isn’t his dragon due to rise again soon? Might send Ryth up after that one.’

D’gar paused and looked back. 'You wouldn't dare.'

‘Can’t stop my dragon chasing a green now and again, can I?’ He began to chuckle. ‘Reckon we’d both enjoy that.’

His laughter followed D’gar all the way back to the Weyrhall.


	35. Back at Benden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar gets some unexpected help before H'rek returns to Benden

_You are still awake._ Herebeth’s mental voice intruded on D’gar’s thoughts, which had been going around in circles since he’d got to bed. Every time he shut his eyes and tried to drift off, F’drun’s threat repeated itself over and over again.

He sat up, staring at the now familiar walls of his weyr. _Very observant of you,_ he replied. _I reckoned you’d be asleep after all the work you did today. Sorry, yesterday._ It must be well past midnight, judging by how quiet it was outside.

_Your thoughts are very strong. They woke me up._

That made him feel guilty. _I’m sorry. I can’t get to sleep for thinking._

_Then maybe you should talk._

_I can’t. Everyone is asleep._

_I am not._

D’gar gave up trying to drop off. He got out of bed, dragging the sleeping furs with him and settled himself next to his dragon. Herebeth’s couch was heated and his hide radiated a soothing warmth. He wrapped the furs loosely around him and leaned back, trying to work out how to phrase his problems in a way that a dragon could understand.

_Remember the man who tried to drown me?_

_Yes. He is a bad man._ Herebeth’s eyes whirled with the reddish tones of anger as he visualised F’drun and Ryth. _His dragon is no better._

_Well, he’s being unpleasant to people in the south. And he’s influencing other people so they behave as badly as he does._

_Why does that affect you? Or me?_

That sounded a bit like M’rell’s attitude, but Herebeth was only a dragon. He couldn’t be expected to see the wider picture. D’gar tried explaining it it further. _It affects one of the riders in our Wing, as his weyrmate is bearing the brunt. It affects a lot of other riders in Southern, including H’rek. And potentially Rioth, too._ After he’d finished, D’gar could sense the confusion in Herebeth’s mind.

_Why should it affect Rioth?_ he asked.

_Because F’drun has threatened to send Ryth after Rioth when she next rises._

_Chasing doesn’t necessarily mean catching._ Herebeth pointed out. _Rioth is fond of me. She does not like Ryth._

He radiated an easy confidence D’gar wished he could share. But he had to try and make his dragon understand the devious ways of people. _You’re right there. But F’drun wants to hurt me. He can’t do it directly, so he’ll try to hurt H’rek instead._ Mating flights weren’t always won easily. Even when riders were weyrmates and their dragons liked each other, up in the air things could go wrong. F’drun might conspire with some of his cronies to send their dragons up, not with the aim of catching Rioth, but to block Herebeth from getting to her. _They might even hurt you,_ he thought, feeling that he needed to warn Herebeth. A bronze - particularly a large, modern bronze - could do him some damage. In the heat of a mating flight, injuries were an accepted risk and no-one would be considered to blame.

_They can try. But I am clever. And fast._

_You are only one dragon. Suppose two or even three of them try to stop you?_

Herebeth considered this. _That might be difficult,_ he admitted. _But how can you be so sure this will happen?_

_I can’t. I’m just trying to think of every eventuality._

_Which is why you cannot sleep._

_Exactly._

Herebeth said nothing for a while and D’gar sensed he was thinking over what he’d been told. Eventually, he broke the silence. _Maybe I should warn Rioth, if you have felt the need to warn me._

_No. Don’t. If you do that, then she’ll tell H’rek and it will make him worry._ That was the heart of the problem. If H’rek knew what F’drun had threatened, then he’d be even more stressed at the thought of Rioth rising again. Last time had been lucky; there was no guarantee Herebeth would catch Rioth twice in a row, even without any intervention. Mating flights didn’t work like that. Herebeth hadn’t always caught Zemianth every time she’d risen to mate. A couple of times that had been due to circumstances such as when his wing had been damaged or when they’d been seconded to Telgar, but even when he’d chased her, he’d not always been lucky enough to catch her.

Herebeth picked up on his thoughts again. _I did not always catch Zemianth because she did not always want me to mate with her. Rioth is different._

_I still don’t want her to know about this. I’ll talk to H’rek when the time is right._

_Very well._

He quieted his mind, not wanting to disturb Herebeth any further and gradually began to doze off, lulled by the warmth and the soft breathing of his dragon. When he woke again it was to dawn’s cold light and the start of another day.

He led the Wing through their morning exercises. Over the past few sevendays, it had been gratifying to note that most of the youngsters he’d been training had joined in too. He’d got to know them all fairly well. Prideth’s clutch had been bronze heavy - fourteen out of a total of thirty-two eggs - but most of the bronze riders in this half of the clutch were far less arrogant and more willing to learn than their counterparts who had been sent to Southern in the first shift.

‘Three more days and we’ll be off.’ W’stel always matched his pace well and usually ended up running alongside. He reminded D’gar a little of S’brin in his enthusiasm for exercise. He also had a similar build, tall and well-muscled, although unlike S’brin, he rode a brown dragon.

‘Are you looking forward to it?’

‘It’ll be good to go back. And we might get a chance to fight Thread. The others did.’

‘It’s more likely you’ll end up shovelling firestone, but you never know.’ They’d finished the third circuit of the lake, so he slowed and waited for the stragglers to catch up. The sun was just visible above the rim of the Bowl, which meant breakfast would soon be served. Once everyone had formed a semi-circle around him, he took them through a few stretches, then dismissed them and walked back with W’stel and his friend S’fyn, one of the young bronze riders.

‘Will we be having flying practice again later?’ S’fyn asked.

‘I don’t see why not. Unless I’m called to a meeting, I should be free.’ He’d enjoyed teaching this batch of youngsters practical Thread fighting skills and seeing them come together as a Wing. If Benden wanted him to carry on when the other half returned, he knew it would be a much harder task, given that some of them didn’t like him much.

‘Can we practice those quick turns again?’ W’stel asked. ‘Balarth can’t seem to get the hang of them.’

Balarth was big for a brown; not far off the size of Canth. ‘He’s probably not reached his full growth yet,’ D’gar said, hearing the despondency in W’stel’s voice. ‘A lot of young browns and bronzes go through a clumsy stage, just the same as we do when we’re still growing.’

He seemed to accept that. ‘Could still use the practice, though.’

‘Of course. The more he flies, the better he’ll get at it.’

‘Why didn’t they teach us moves like those before?’ S’fyn always asked a lot of questions.

D’gar could identify with that, as it was how he’d been when he was a weyrling. ‘They probably only read about them in old records. I was lucky to have Impressed at the end of a Pass. My teachers had been fighting Thread for Turns.’

S’fyn considered that. ‘With all of your knowledge, I’m glad you’re teaching us.’

‘That’s right,’ said W’stel. ‘By the time we get asked to join a Wing, we’ll know everything.’

‘No-one knows everything,’ D’gar cautioned. ‘There’s always something unexpected. Take the Fall we had the other day. Conditions like that don’t happen often. It was a good thing I remembered how we’d dealt with it before.’

‘I know. Everyone’s saying how your quick thinking saved the vineyards.’

D’gar knew it hadn’t been quite as clear-cut as that. He’d only done his job, after all. ‘They’d have figured out the best way to deal with it even if I’d not been there,’ he explained, trying to be modest. ‘R’feem would have done the same.’ He could see from their expressions they didn’t believe it.

‘Maybe you’ll get a lifetime supply of Benden white?’ S’fyn suggested.

‘I wish.’ Although it might mean the tithes were slightly more generous next time. Mind you, that would happen anyway. Once a Pass was underway, everyone realised how vital dragonriders were to the survival of Pern.

‘So, what’s it like, being a Wingleader? In comparison to being a wing rider, or even a Wingsecond?’ That was S’fyn again.

‘More responsibility, for one. But more information as well. I like knowing the complete plan for Fall and being able to make decisions based on that knowledge. When you’re a wingrider, you don’t hear everything that’s passing between the Wingleaders’ dragons.’ Even though he’d only fought one Fall as Wingleader, he knew he’d miss seeing the whole picture when R’feem came back. ‘Mind you, Wingseconds have a fair amount of responsibility as well.’ He added that for W’stel’s benefit as that was probably the most he could hope to aspire to, given the amount of competition there would be for the available positions.

‘Do you think they’ll need more Wings at Southern once it’s fully established?’ S’fyn ventured.

Evidently, he was thinking along the same lines. If there were more Wings, then there’d be more chance to lead one.

‘I would imagine so, if they’re going to try and encourage people to settle there. At the moment, they don’t need many dragons. But that will change once there’s more cultivated land and Holds to protect.’

‘It’s a good way for us to get practice, then.’ S’fyn had apparently worked it all out. ‘M’shol told me that some of them have been flying with F’drun. He said we might be able to do that, too.’

‘Well, yes.’ They were keen and he didn’t want to dampen their enthusiasm, but he felt he should give them some warning regarding F’drun. ‘He used to be a Wingleader at High Reaches and he’s got a lot of experience when it comes to fighting Thread.’ That covered all of F’drun’s good points. ‘If you get the chance, there’s no harm in taking it,’ he added. Maybe that wasn’t such good advice, he thought, almost as soon as he’d spoken.

‘I heard you don’t get on with him.’ S’fyn said. ‘I thought you got on with everyone.’

‘I try to, but F’drun took a dislike to me from the moment we first met.’ Might as well be honest about it.

‘Someone told me he’s a bully,’ W’stel put in.

At least they had been well informed. ‘You should probably make up your own minds about him,’ he said, trying not to reveal his own feelings on the matter. They were almost back to the Lower Caverns by now. ‘I’ll get Herebeth to let your dragons know in good time when we’re ready to fly, all right?’

The two of them went off toward the bath house, while he called Herebeth to take him up to his weyr so that he could freshen up before breakfast.

Alone again and with nothing to occupy his mind as he had a quick bathe in the pool, he found his thoughts falling into the same patterns as they had during the night. Had F’drun really meant anything by that threat, or had it been purely to get him rattled? Well, if that was the case, he’d certainly succeeded. Still, there was no denying that Ryth had flown T’rai’s green and T’rai had ended up in the infirmary. The fact F’drun had said it in the first place meant that he must have some intention of carrying it out. Therefore, it was best to prepare for the worst-case scenario. That would mean H’rek needed to be told, at some point.

Of course, if Rioth rose early, while she was here at Benden, that would solve the problem. It was unlikely though. Based on the interval between the first and second times she’d risen to mate it would happen again when she was back in the south. And if F’drun was still there, he’d be well-placed to send Ryth up after her.

D’gar floated on his back, tracing the patterns in the rocky ceiling, trying to focus his mind.

Was there any chance of getting F’drun out of the way? Probably not. He’d made himself useful at Southern Weyr and Kylara had sufficient influence to ensure he remained, if that was what he wanted. If he was forced to return to Benden, he’d definitely cause problems in the Wing and D’gar’s priority now was to make sure his Wing performed as well as when R’feem had been leading it. Therefore, it was better to leave him in the south, from the Wing’s point of view. Yet that meant he’d be there when Rioth rose. There was no perfect answer to the conundrum. He was back to where he started again.

By the time Herebeth dropped him off at the dining hall for breakfast, he was no nearer to finding a solution. He picked out some eggs and meat rolls and sat down in his usual place.

S’fyn came over, carrying a cup of klah. ‘Mind if I sit with you?’

‘Not at all.’ Talking might distract him for a while, at least until after breakfast.

‘I’ve been thinking about what we were discussing earlier.’

D’gar wondered which part of it. ‘And?’

‘I’ve had an idea.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘It would probably be useful if you knew what was happening with F’drun, wouldn’t it?’

D’gar glanced around. Not all of the Wing had made it to breakfast yet, so there were still gaps around the table. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ’It might be.’

S’fyn picked up on his caution and quietened his own tone. ‘Well, while we’re down south, I could try and find out what he’s up to.’

D’gar considered this for a while as he sipped klah. ‘There could be some advantages to that,’ he ventured cautiously. ‘He likes to impress youngsters, so he’ll probably make friends with some of you.’

S’fyn nodded. ‘M’shol’s told me F’drun gets on better with the bronzes than any other colour, so I’m well placed to fit in.’

That was true. ’Why do you want to do this?’

‘I don’t like some of the things I’ve been hearing about him. And I want to help you out. You’ve been good to us.’

‘I appreciate that,’ D’gar said. ‘Just don’t put yourself in any danger.’

S’fyn seemed surprised. ‘You think it could be dangerous?’

It was as well to make him aware of the risks. ‘F’drun is an unscrupulous character. If he gets any inkling you might be passing information to me, things could turn nasty.’

‘I’ll be careful.’

‘In that case, we’d best start right now. Do you reckon you can trust all of your clutchmates?’

‘I’ve not really thought about it but I suppose so.’

D’gar glanced across to them. They all seemed like good sorts, but you could never tell. ’Some of them might be easily influenced. Don’t say anything about what you’re planning to any of them.’ He had another thought. ‘And it’s probably best they don’t see you talking with me from now on.’

‘I understand.’ He got up, then said loudly, ‘So we’re definitely on for flying later?’

‘Should be fine. I’ll make sure to give you some practise with those manoeuvres you mentioned.’

S’fyn gave him a quick wink, then went back to his own table to join the others.

D’gar carried on eating, hoping that he could trust S’fyn. Then he chided himself for being so suspicious. That was the trouble dealing with people like F’drun. They made you question everyone’s motives and doubt even your own judgements.

The next few days passed uneventfully. He led another Fall in the northern part of Benden Hold, close to the Weyr itself. It was a normal Fall this time and everything went smoothly. Afterwards, R’feem took him aside. ‘You seem to be getting the feel for this.’

‘I hope so.’ He knew he’d done a good job so far, but didn’t want to fall into the trap of over-confidence.

‘Well, just to let you know I’m planning on going back to Fort for a while. They’ve plenty of dragons and men for support duty here and if I’m going to be out of action, it might as well be back home. It’ll keep Hebiri happy too.’

He could understand that. ‘Of course.’

‘If you’ve any questions, you can always contact me. I’ll head off in the morning. Seems they have an important announcement to make tonight, so I might as well find out for myself rather than learn about it second hand.’

D’gar had a good idea what it might be and was proved right when Lessa addressed the assembled weyrfolk to announce that she was expecting a baby. ‘I’m going to carry on riding Fall as long as I feel able,’ she said. ‘Although Ramoth and I planned it fairly well together. She’s going to be egg-heavy soon, then she’ll be slobbering over her latest clutch for several weeks so I’d not be able to do much anyway.’

D’gar worked out the timings. By the time Ramoth’s eggs hatched, Lessa would probably be getting to the stage where it would be downright uncomfortable and possibly dangerous to ride her dragon through a Fall. He hoped she’d have an easier time of it than Tirelle, one of the junior weyrwomen at Fort. She’d been unable to do much for a few months after the birth of her third child and Weyr rumour had it that she was lucky to have got through it at all.

‘Nice to hear some happy news for once,’ R’feem said. ‘I’ll be able to take that bit of gossip back with me.’ Wine was being brought out and various Wingleaders were going over to congratulate Lessa. ‘You’d best get up there too, if you want to stay in Benden’s good books.’

D’gar had already congratulated Lessa in private, but he knew R’feem was right. You had to be seen to be doing the right thing. He made his way over to the top table and waited politely until there was a space.

‘My Wing would like to offer you our wishes for a safe and healthy birth.’

Lessa gave him a smile. ‘Thank you, D’gar. And thanks also for your tip about porridge the other day. It does help to reduce the queasiness first thing.’

D’nol and R’gul gave him a sideways glance at that but said nothing. He returned to the table and accepted a cup of wine from R’feem.

‘So, tomorrow’s the day your weyrmate gets back.’

‘That’s right. For a month, anyway, until they swap them around again.’

‘Well, enjoy your time together.’

‘You too.’

Many of the Wing were suffering from hangovers the next morning, so he was kind and didn’t make them do anything too energetic. The morning was taken up with routine tasks and seeing R’feem off to Fort. By lunchtime the Benden weather had decided to welcome the returning riders with a fine drizzle.

That didn’t discourage Herebeth from taking up a position on the fire heights where he waited to greet Rioth. D’gar waited in the dining hall, drinking far too much klah and losing several hands of dragon poker to T’garrin.

_They are here,_ Herebeth announced, giving him a good reason not to join in for another game. Outside, the sixteen dragons had just landed. The other half of Prideth’s clutch were assembled and ready to leave, their belongings packed and bundled onto their dragons. As the riders dismounted, more people started emerging from the dining hall to greet them. Herebeth descended, along with a few other Benden dragons, so that very soon the landing area was a teeming mass of weyrfolk and dragons.

D’gar pushed his way through to find H’rek. It had only been a few days since they’d last seen each other, but it was a relief to have him back safe and well.

‘Never thought I’d be so glad to see Benden rain,’ H’rek said as they hugged.

‘Believe it or not, we’ve had some quite warm and sunny days while you were away.’

H’rek raised his eyebrows. ’Really? It still feels chilly here.’

‘As soon as this lot have shifted, we can get up to the weyr and warm up.’

‘Can’t wait,’ he grinned. ‘But we just need to unload some supplies first. They made us bring back sacks full of fresh fruit and vegetables for the kitchens.’

Close up, he could see Rioth was burdened with more than just H’rek’s possessions. ‘Well, let’s help you get these off, then.’

They ended up waiting in line as Manora checked in the various goods before Lower Caverns workers took them away for storage. Eventually they got back to the weyr. H’rek took his bags off Rioth, leaving her to cuddle up and twine necks with Herebeth.

‘Looks like our dragons have got the right idea,’ D’gar said, leading him through the curtain. ‘Let’s make up for lost time.’

H’rek smiled and pulled him close, then tumbled him onto the bed. ‘It’s good to be home.’


	36. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threadfall over Benden Weyr brings unforeseen problems

D’gar sat in his usual place around the table in the council room. Thread would be falling over Bitra and the Weyr itself later in the afternoon.

F’lar had unrolled a map showing the area that would be affected. ‘I’m going to leave two Wings to protect the Weyr. That’ll be you, S’lel and K’net. We all know how distressed the grounded dragons get when they know Thread’s falling and they can’t fly against it, so seeing their wingmates up there might help to reassure them. D’gar, can your Wing take care of the pre-Fall weather reports and sweep the area?’

‘Of course.’ He’d ridden sweep plenty of times himself. It was infinitely preferable to being on clean-up duty.

‘So far it’s looking as if we’ll stay dry today,’ the Weyrleader continued.

Everyone laughed at that. ‘Maybe summer’s reached Benden at last,’ W’lir whispered.

‘Fall will start over the mountains here, then advance over Bitra Hold and the surrounding farmland. I’m estimating around four hours flying time today before trailing edge passes over.’

They’d need to swap out the blues and greens, then. That wouldn’t be too difficult; he’d already worked out a rough plan for the longer Falls.

‘My Wing and R’gul’s will fly the upper levels, D’gar and W’lir, you’ll take the mids and we’ll have S’lan and D’nol just above the Queens’ Wing. Any questions?’

There weren’t, so the meeting broke up, leaving everyone to file out and pass on the information to their Wingseconds.

‘Glad we’re together today,’ W’lir said. ‘I can always rely on your riders to fly a tidy pattern.’

‘You too.’ Benden’s Threadfighting skills had improved vastly, but they still flew in looser formations than the other five Weyrs were used to. It was so much easier to fly a level with folk who understood what you were doing.

‘Heard much from R’feem?’

‘He’s having a nice break. Hebiri won’t let him come back until she’s sure his wrist’s better.’

‘Bet she’ll want to keep him there as long as she can.’

D’gar grinned. ‘I expect so.’

They’d reached the Bowl by then. _Herebeth. Can you fetch me please and ask Ondiath and Bitath’s riders to meet in my weyr shortly._

_Will do._

W’lir watched as Herebeth glided down. ‘He’s a well put-together dragon, isn’t he? One of Loranth’s?’

‘No, his dam was Kadoth.’

‘Ah yes, Valli’s queen. She was a character.’

‘You knew her?’

‘She came over to Telgar for a Turn when we were short of breeding queens. Had a clutch there.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know.’

‘You’d have been a baby then. I was still a weyrling. But she talked to us all. Not stuck up like some weyrwomen can be.’

He smiled. Thinking of Valli brought back a host of bittersweet memories. He and S’brin had been her favourites to help with Kadoth as she became less able to do those tasks herself through illness. They’d been there on the morning she chose to go _between_ while she was still able to ride her dragon. ‘We were her last clutch.’ Herebeth landed neatly, sending up a brief puff of dust.

‘Ah,’ W’lir said. ‘Sad when someone has to go before their time.’

‘Yes, it is.’ He started to climb up. ‘Fly well.’

‘Have a good Fall.’

Herebeth picked up the image from his mind. _Why do you think of Kadoth?_

_We were talking. It reminded me of her._ Had reminded him, too, of S’brin. Valli had always said that Zemianth looked like a miniature Kadoth. They’d shared that light colouring; Kadoth a silvery-gold, like the sun through cloud and Zemianth a green similar to shallow sea water over pale sand.

Rioth was still on the couch when Herebeth landed; H’rek checking the fighting straps before putting them on her. ‘We’re doing deliveries today,’ he said. ‘It’ll make a change from filling up the bags.’

‘Who have they roped in for that?’

‘Some of the men whose dragons aren’t fit to fly and a few Lower Caverns workers.’

‘Might see you up there, then. We’re on mid-level today. I’ve got B’lin and V’vil coming over shortly.’

‘I’ll get out of the way if you want.’

‘No need, if you aren’t ready yet. There’s nothing secret about our meetings.’

‘Well, I might stay for a bit. I can fetch your klah. Sure you won’t try to eat anything?’

‘Better not.’ He’d had the usual porridge at breakfast and a roll for lunch. He didn’t trust his stomach to dare any more. ‘I’ll make up for it later on.’

‘How long do they reckon it’ll be today?’

‘Around four hours. So you’ll be kept busy.’ The bags they took up with them contained enough firestone for approximately two hours flaming, dependent on weather conditions and the amount of Thread that fell.

They both turned as a scrape of talons on stone announced Bitath’s arrival. V’vil slid down and with a brief pat sent his dragon off again. Herebeth settled down next to Rioth, folding his legs like a contented cat.

_Don’t get yourself too comfortable. We’ll be flying again soon,_ D’gar told him.

‘Would you like some klah?’ H’rek asked V’vil.

‘Please.’ He went through to the inner room as Ondiath arrived, dropping off B’lin. While H’rek called down the service shaft, he outlined the plan.

‘I’ll send a couple of my lads up to do a weather report,’ B’lin offered. ‘B’dant and Jokairth aren’t quite recovered from their last mating flight, so they can take it easy today.’

‘Fine. I think we’ll have some of the other greens and blues on sweep. If we put them in on the second shift, they’ll have plenty of time to rest up before they have to take to the air again.’ D’gar checked his list. ’T’rai can check the area close to Benden while T’burrad, V’chal and N’bren cover Bitra Hold.’

‘Just T’rai for the Weyr?’ V’vil queried.

‘He should be fine on his own. After all, there’s nothing else for miles around and everyone should be safely inside. It’s not as if we don’t know what’s coming.’

H’rek brought the klah over. ‘There you are.’

‘Thanks, lad,’ B’lin said. ‘Right, I’ll let my lot know what they’re doing.’ He started relaying the instructions to Ondiath.

D’gar continued. ‘Although we’ve got a four hour Fall today, quite a bit of it’s over mountain and scree. Benden are leaving two Wings to protect the Weyr. Once trailing edge has passed over, they’ll be in reserve in case we need any extra dragons.’

‘Seems fairly straightforward,’ V’vil said. ‘I must admit, I’m getting used to these relatively short Falls. Over High Reaches territory, we often got five or six hour stretches in the air.’

‘In a couple of Turns we’ll be looking back on this as being easy.’ D’gar knew from talking to older riders that during the height of a Pass, when the Red Star was at its closest, the Falls would become both longer and more frequent. Still, by then there should be a lot more dragons available to fight.

‘Wonder if we’ll get rained on today?’ B’lin swilled his klah around the cup before taking a sip.

‘It didn’t look like it earlier. But weather over Bitra can be changeable.’

‘Ground crews aren’t up to much, either,’ V’vil grumbled. ‘Last time we were on clean-up over that area, we had a real job to get them to do any work.’

‘That’s Bitra for you,’ H’rek put in. ‘Everyone here’s always moaning about them. Load of gamblers and ne’er-do-wells, from what I’ve heard.’

‘There’s folk like that in every Hold,’ B’lin said. ‘Still, I’ve heard that particular place has more than their fair share.’

‘Well, nothing much we can do about that.’ D’gar sighed. ‘Suppose I’d better start getting ready. If you two can form up the Wing and get the dragons started on chewing firestone, I’ll be down shortly.’

‘Right-ho,’ B’lin said, finishing his klah. ‘Have a good Fall,’ he said to H’rek. ‘Don’t drop any sacks on those Bitrans.’

H’rek smiled. ‘I’ll try not to.’

‘Might get them working a bit faster.’ V’vil added, as he got to his feet. The two of them went off, chatting companionably.

D’gar took the empty cups and put them back in the service hatch ready to go back down to the kitchens. ‘Don’t forget to put on something warm. You aren’t flying in the south now.’

‘Yes, mum.’

‘Oy. I’m only trying to make sure you don’t get frostbite anywhere important. It can be pretty cold over those mountains, even if it is almost summer.’ He rummaged around for his thick socks. ‘My feet will definitely be the worse for wear after four hours up there.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ H’rek said. ‘Throwing sacks around keeps you warm. And we’ll be back here in between deliveries anyway.’

‘Watch out for Thread, even when you’re at the dump. People sometimes get complacent, forgetting that it’s going to fall over the Weyr too.’ He realised he was in lecturing mode. ‘Sorry. Just pre-Fall nerves. I know you can both take care of yourselves.’ They’d managed through several Falls in the south when he’d not been around, after all. He kicked off his boots and started to put on the socks.

‘Bavi was nervous when she heard Thread was falling here today.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Her experience in the south would be enough to scare anyone. ‘Still, there’s plenty of shelter and I doubt anything will get through. They’ll be setting fires on the heights soon and there are plenty of spare flamethrowers available.’

‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to be outdoors in Fall. Without a dragon, I mean.’

‘Me neither. That’s why I’ve always had a healthy respect for ground crews. Mind you, with dragons in the air, not much gets through.’

‘Except when there aren’t enough dragons.’ H’rek was obviously thinking of Southern again.

‘Don’t worry yourself about it. The Weyr - and everyone in it - will be safe enough.’ D’gar stomped his boot back on. ‘That’s better. Should be at least two hours before I don’t feel my feet any more.’

‘I heard this story about some kids getting caught out in Fall. They were in an area the Weyrs didn’t overfly; nothing to protect and nothing for Thread to eat…’

D’gar nodded. He’d heard similar tales himself. They never ended well.

‘It was only when they were reported missing anyone thought to look. All they found was a metal belt buckle and the comb the girl was wearing in her hair.’

‘Thread eats everything.’

H’rek shuddered.

‘And on that cautionary note, have a safe Fall.’ On the way past, he pulled H’rek into a hug. He’d intended to just give him a brief kiss, but it turned into something more lingering. Reluctantly, D’gar moved away. ‘Much as I’d like to carry on with this, I’d best get going.’

‘Just wait until I get you in the bathing pool later.’

D’gar shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t say that. It’s tempting fate.’

‘Well, safe Fall, then.’

Herebeth was chewing his fourth chunk of firestone when the weather reports came in. A few clouds, higher than the dragons would be flying, no sign of rain and light wind from the south west. D’gar ordered the sweep riders out. They’d check the area before the Wings arrived, to make sure everyone was safely under cover apart from the necessary ground crews.

Fires were already blazing along the rim of the Bowl. It gave an additional sense of security to those in the Weyr and ensured that no Thread could find its way down the many ventilation shafts into the rooms beneath. A heat haze shimmered above the smoke. R’gul’s Wing flew extra high above it on their way to the meeting point.

D’gar climbed on board, giving the signal for his riders to follow suit as Herebeth sent the instruction to their dragons.

_We are ready,_ he said.

_Very well. We’ll fly after K’net’s Wing gets airborne._

_I inform Piyanth now._

D’gar caught K’net’s wave of acknowledgement. His Wing took off in a tight formation and flew high over the far end of the Bowl, well clear of all the smoke. Looking in that direction, it was odd to see the beast pens empty; all of them had been corralled away under cover, just in case.

_Prepare the Wing for take-off._ He glanced around to check everyone was ready before giving the signal to ascend. Herebeth sprang into the air as the downdraught from all of those dragon wings stirred up yet more dust and they were airborne. He followed K’net’s example and headed away from the smoke; he didn’t want to start off coughing from breathing in all that muck. Once clear of the Bowl, they went _between_ to the meeting point at the edge of the mountains.

R’gul and F’lar’s Wings were already circling. The sky was a perfect blue, with just a few fluffy white clouds way above the waiting dragons. Only a faint greyness out on the horizon marred the day; Thread was descending, although still far out of range and currently over terrain where it could do no damage. He knew that it would reach the Weyr before it got to them; they had a good few minutes waiting time. As they circled, he threw another few chunks of firestone to Herebeth.

_Hinarth informs me she has seen something below._

That was T’rai’s dragon, riding sweep close by the Weyr. _Did she say what?_

_They are going to investigate._

D’gar checked the sky again. The grey band of Thread covered more of the sky now, getting closer. _Tell Hinarth to watch out for Thread. It must be close to Benden by now._

_She is aware…_ he paused. _There are people down there!_

_People?_ There were no other dwellings close to the Weyr. Shells! Thread must be close by now.

_She descends to land._

D’gar thought quickly. T’rai wouldn’t knowingly put himself or his dragon in danger, but the instinct to protect vulnerable folk could sometimes override self-preservation. _Inform Piyanth. Ask if K’net can send a couple of his wingriders to provide cover._

_I tell him._ Another pause. _He says leading edge is in sight of the Weyr now._

This was getting worse. D’gar felt totally helpless as the drama played out far from where he was right now. He couldn’t leave the Wing and he couldn’t afford to be distracted as all too soon they would need to concentrate on fighting their own battles.

_Hinarth is on the ground. She says there are two children. Piyanth sends help._

If it was two weyrbrats - and that was the most likely scenario - then they’d be in big trouble with their foster mothers. Big trouble from him as well, when it was all over, for stupidly endangering one of his riders. With no more information forthcoming from Herebeth he forced himself to concentrate on his usual pre-Fall checks. No news was good news; they would know all too soon if anything happened to either T’rai or Hinarth.

_Hinarth has them on board. Thread falls over the Weyr. She goes_ between.

_Is she all right? Are they both all right?_ Of course, he wouldn’t know until they emerged. D’gar hoped fervently that the closeness of Thread and the urgency of the situation hadn’t meant they failed to visualise their destination correctly. It felt like a long, long time before Herebeth finally answered.

_They are at the Weyr. They are safe._

He realised he’d been holding his breath. That had been far too close for comfort. But now he could put it aside and deal with the repercussions later. _Tell Hinarth she can have a break. We will only call her if we have to._

In the far distance, he saw flashes of fire as the two Wings protected their Weyr. Leading edge rolled on towards them as he gave orders for the Wing to take up fighting formation and prepare to meet Thread.

It was a straightforward Fall, as they went. The light winds meant that none of the smaller colours were overstrained. Thread fell in small tangles, fairly evenly, meaning the dragons could stay in a wedge formation to clear a swathe through. Still four hours was a long haul and by the time they returned to the Weyr, D’gar’s shoulders ached and the taste of charred Thread needed more than the last swig of water in his flask to wash away. Over the Weyr, the last remnants of the fires lingered, smoke rising into the blue sky. Still, everything on the ground seemed to be in order.

_Hinarth asks for you._

D’gar slid down carefully, trying to spare his feet. Landing hurt, as always. _Where are they?_ He hoped the two children were all right, apart from having had a scare. He’d had one as well; if anything had happened to T’rai or Hinarth, he’d have been blaming himself. What had he been thinking of, only sending one dragon to sweep the area?

_They are at the infirmary._

That didn’t sound too good. _I should have sent more than one dragon up to check._

_You were not to know,_ Herebeth responded. _It is not your fault. Besides, no harm was done._

_We don’t know that for sure yet._ He hobbled over to the infirmary. If that pair hadn’t already had a good telling off, he was certainly going to give them a piece of his mind.

The usual line of riders with minor scores were waiting for treatment and several dragons were also being dealt with. He recognised one of the bronzes from Prideth’s clutch, with a nasty score down one side of his neck. His rider, standing worriedly beside the dragon, glared at D’gar as if he had been somehow to blame. Well, if F’drun hadn’t taught them to watch for stray Thread when they were delivering replacement sacks, that wasn’t his problem. Although it probably would be. F’lar had mentioned that he’d like the training sessions to carry on as he’d heard good things about them. Thinking about F’drun took his anger up another notch.

Just inside the infirmary he spotted Manora talking quietly with one of the healers.Two youngsters sat on the edge of a bed, one with a splinted leg. They looked old enough to know better; he’d been imagining small children, seven or eight Turns. This pair looked to be in their teens.

T’rai was there with them, too, standing to one side with folded arms.

‘You’re all right?’ D’gar asked him. ‘And Hinarth?

T’rai nodded. ‘It was a bit close for comfort, I have to say. Thought I was going to have to change my pants.’

It was good that he could joke about the incident, but that didn’t change the fact it could have ended as badly as all of those cautionary tales. ’Are these the two you found?’

T’rai nodded. ‘They…’

D’gar didn’t wait for whatever he was about to say, but rounded on them. ‘You sharding idiots! What did you think you were doing? If my rider hadn’t seen you when he did, you’d have been eaten by Thread.’

The boys flinched away from his raised voice.

T’rai gave him a warning glance. ‘It’s not that simple,’ he said. ‘They aren’t from this Weyr.’

‘They aren’t from any Weyr.’ Manora said, stepping in front of them in a protective fashion. ‘So, please calm down before you flame them.’

T’rai stepped in, too. ‘Manora’s right. They’ve not had an easy time of it.’

D’gar took a deep breath, glaring at the two, who had huddled together. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, mostly to Manora. ‘I was concerned about T’rai here and his dragon.’

‘Naturally,’ she said. ‘That is your duty as Wingleader. My duty, however is to look after the other inhabitants of this Weyr.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘I thought you said they weren’t from here.’

She fixed him with a steely glare. ‘They were trying to reach the Weyr. And obviously, they were unaware Thread was about to fall over this area.’

Faced with her explanation, his anger began to fade. She was right. How could they possibly have known the danger just over the horizon?

T’rai spoke up. ‘By the time they saw Thread coming, all they could think to do was run as fast as they could toward the Weyr. Trouble was, they were running toward leading edge…’ He left unspoken what would have happened had he not spotted them.

‘You did a good job.’ D’gar patted him on the shoulder. He turned toward the boys again. They were both scrawny, as if they’d not had enough to eat as they grew. Weyrbrats never looked like that.

The smaller of the two faced him unflinchingly. ‘You gonna send us back?’ he asked. ‘Cos if you do, Thread might as well have got us.’

‘That’s not my decision to make,’ he said firmly. ‘It’ll be up to the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. Where are you from, anyway?’

The larger lad, the one with the bandaged leg, spoke up. ‘It doesn’t matter where. They don’t want us. My da threw me out.’

‘And mine would’ve too.’

Not brothers, then. They didn’t look that much alike anyway apart from being thin and grubby.

‘Your families are going to wonder where you’ve got to,’ he said. ‘Surely someone will be worried? Your mothers maybe?’

T’rai shook his head. ‘We’ve already been through all this. They won’t say.’

‘Give them a chance,’ Manora said. ‘I’ll make sure they get a decent meal. They may be more willing to tell their story once they’re fed and rested.’

‘Of course.’ At least the matter was out of his hands now. Whether they stayed at Benden or not wasn’t his concern. He turned to T’rai. ‘Wing meeting in the dining hall once everyone’s had a chance to clean up, all right?’

‘Sure.’

By the time he got back to the landing area, Herebeth had gone. _Where are you?_ he asked, still feeling slightly irritable. He should have taken off the straps first. A soaking in lake water wouldn’t do the leather any good at all.

_Bathing._ There was an impression of disturbed water and many different colours of dragon hide.

As he’d thought. Now he was stranded down here, unable to get to his weyr. This day was going rapidly downhill.

‘Need a lift?’ H’rek strolled toward him, straps looped over his shoulder. ‘I took care of Herebeth. Rioth got her bath in earlier, when our deliveries were done.’ As he finished speaking, the green dragon landed neatly alongside.

‘Glad to see you here. And thanks. I was worried about T’rai.’

‘I saw him bring those lads in. We were still here when it happened, of course, waiting for Thread to pass by.’ He climbed up, then offered D’gar a hand. ‘Talk about cutting it fine.’

Rioth flew them back to the weyr. ‘I should have sent more than one rider on sweep duty,’ he said, voicing his thoughts. ‘V’vil said as much beforehand.’

H’rek shrugged as he got off. ‘You weren’t to know anyone was out there.’

D’gar slid down. At least his feet had warmed up and didn’t hurt any more. ‘They could have been hurt… killed even.’ His mistake weighed heavier now that Fall was past and his anger had abated.

‘But they weren’t. It all turned out fine.’

‘That’s not the point. I should have known.’ He sat heavily on the bed and started pulling his boots off.

‘You are allowed to get things wrong occasionally. Everyone does.’

H’rek was just trying to be nice to him. ‘I can imagine what some of the other Wingleaders will say.’

‘Does it matter? They’re not perfect either.’

‘What can you expect from an inexperienced brown rider.’ He imitated R’gul’s pompous tone. ‘I can hear it even now.’ He threw his left boot across the floor.

H’rek sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it so much. I’ll bet all the gossip later on will be about the daring rescue rather than what might have gone wrong.’

He had a point there, D’gar realised.

‘Anyway, if you had sent two riders out, they’d have most likely been checking opposite sides, so only one would have spotted those kids anyway.’

That was probably true, as well. ‘I suppose so.’

‘There you are, then. Now come on, let’s get a bath before you need to go to another one of those interminable meetings.’


	37. Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story is revealed about the lads rescued from Threadfall.

In the few days that had passed since Thread fell over the Weyr, T’rai had recounted his story of the rescue many times since D’gar first heard it at the post-Fall Wing meeting. In all fairness to T’rai, he’d not elaborated much but others who’d heard the tale had added their own flourishes. Among the Benden green riders, he’d become something of a hero.

‘I think we should hold a party for him,’ H’rek suggested, after he came back from one of their regular meetings. ‘Everyone thinks it would be a great idea.’

‘Everyone?’

‘Well, you know, at the meeting.’

‘So I’ll have a weyr full of green riders if I say yes?’

H’rek cuddled up to him. ‘And what’s wrong with green riders? Anyway, didn’t you used to have famously wild parties back at Fort Weyr.’

‘I was young then.’

H’rek made a face. ‘So now you’re four hundred and twenty-three Turns old all that’s in the past?’

‘No. It’s just… the last party I had here didn’t turn out too well.’ It had been the night after he and H’rek argued, when he’d had too much to drink.

‘Oh, that. Well, I’ll be here this time, so if N’bras tries to get in bed with us, I’ll just push him out.’

‘I suppose it might be all right,’ he conceded reluctantly. It would be good for Wing morale and also to get riders from the different Weyrs mixing.

‘Also, Sh’ran told me he’d like to do something to mark J’rud being back in his own weyr again. There isn’t really enough room in either of their weyrs for a lot of people.’

J’rud had made good enough progress to be finally allowed out of the infirmary. Zurinth’s wing had also healed sufficiently for her to make a few cautious circuits of the Bowl each afternoon. ‘So you’re thinking we should hold a combined party to celebrate T’rai’s rescue and J’rud’s recovery?’

H’rek nodded. ‘If you want to, that is.’

‘It’s as good a reason as any.’ He was warming to the idea. ‘Who should we invite?’

‘Well, all of your Wing, obviously. A few of the green riders T’rai and I are friends with. Then as Sh’ran will be here, any of his clutchmates he’d like to come. And mine, too.’

‘Including those annoying bronzes I suppose.’ They’d all have to be invited. Not to do so would cause even more bad feeling. ‘How have they been with you lately?’

H’rek shrugged. ‘A few comments, but nothing I can’t handle. They’re not as nasty here as they were when we were away. I guess that’s because they’re not seeing F’drun every day.’

During the sevenday since they’d swapped around, D’gar hadn’t heard anything from S’fyn. He supposed that no news was good news, although it might just be that he’d not had the opportunity to report back. They’d agreed he’d pass any messages to riders from Benden who were sent down on standby for Threadfall days.

‘They’ve not been too bad in the drills we’ve done either.’ He’d carried on with the training sessions at F’lar’s request. There had been a few grumbles but nothing like the open hostility he’d encountered at the firestone dump in Southern. Maybe H’rek was right. Taken away from F’drun’s influence, the riders were far less objectionable.

‘So shall I pass on invites?’

‘Sure. I’ll sort out my lot. And maybe you could invite Bavi and some of her friends. I know M’rell was pining for some female company and a few of my wingriders wouldn’t be averse either.’

‘I’ll ask her. Hmm, you think she and M’rell might hit it off?’

‘You never know. Attraction’s a weird thing. I mean, I ended up with you.’ He ducked as H’rek threw a cushion at him.

Once J’rud got to know it was happening, he insisted on helping to organise the party. He sat and gave orders while H’rek, with Sh’ran’s assistance, spent most of an afternoon bringing extra tables and seats to the weyr. Zurinth wasn’t yet up to carrying furniture, so Rioth and Herebeth were roped in to help.

_I hope there won’t be too many dragons on my ledge this time._ Herebeth sounded grumpy.

D’gar was surprised he still remembered; dragons tended to forget things quickly. It just went to show how upset he’d been by the invasion. _I’ll make sure they drop their riders off then go back to their own weyrs, all right?_

_Good._

‘Could you just move that second table a bit closer to the wall?’ J’rud asked.

D’gar rolled his eyes. ‘How many times have we moved this stuff around?’

‘Too many,’ Sh’ran sighed. ‘Still, at least he’s happy.’

‘It has to be right,’ J’rud insisted, having overheard them. ‘People need to be able to circulate freely and to get to the food easily.’

Eventually he approved the arrangement and they were able to start putting out platters of food. The kitchens had excelled themselves. It had cost D’gar a few marks and he’d had to promise the use of four dragons from his Wing to ferry some of the Lower Caverns folk to pick herbs down in Nerat. It seemed like a fair exchange and the riders wouldn’t mind a day out anyway.

People started to arrive as the sun turned the evening sky orange and pink. Even the grey walls of the Bowl were lit up in warm colours. As those who hadn’t been before had a good look around the weyr, D’gar made sure J’rud was comfortable and that he had plenty to eat and drink. Within a short time, he was telling some of Sh’ran’s clutchmates exactly how his accident had happened. T’rai already had a circle around him and was answering all their questions with enthusiasm.

‘This is all very civilised,’ V’vil said, sipping from his cup. ‘Benden white and food fit for a Lord Holder’s banquet.’

‘Wait until they’ve had some more to drink and it’ll all go downhill.’ D’gar wondered if he’d have to try and stop someone climbing into the service hatch as had happened before. ‘Still, it’s good to see everyone enjoying themselves.’

‘Pity R’feem couldn’t be here.’

‘I did invite him, but he couldn’t get away. They had a late afternoon Fall over Fort today. Anyway, he seems to be enjoying his enforced rest. It’s always tough being separated from the one you love.’

‘Happens to us all sometimes.’

D’gar remembered that V’vil was involved with that young weyrwoman at High Reaches. Unlike R’feem, or even himself with H’rek, his trips back were infrequent. ‘How’s Pilgra?’

V’vil shrugged. ‘She’s getting by. The Weyr is more or less back to how it used to be and they’ve managed to repair the heating in the archives.’

‘Good.’ It had been freezing in there, he remembered. ‘Have you ever considered a transfer?’ He knew that V’vil wasn’t popular at High Reaches.

‘Don’t know as Benden would want me here permanently. And even if they did, I doubt Pilgra would be allowed to leave so easily.’

‘I suppose not.’ Similar to Fort, the gold dragons at High Reaches had been breeding less frequently as the Pass drew to a close. They’d want to keep hold of all their own queens now they were fighting Thread again.

‘In any case, High Reaches is my home. It’s T’kul who’s made it difficult.’ He sighed. ‘Still, he’s getting on in Turns and won’t be Weyrleader forever.’

‘There is that.’

‘How about you? Are you thinking about staying here?’

‘I have done.’ D’gar chose his words carefully, trying to distil the way he felt. ‘And it’s not just because I met H’rek. Coming here was like starting from square one again. Leaving behind my past.’

‘We all did that, in a single night.’ V’vil looked thoughtful. ‘But I understand what you’re saying. You lost your weyrmate back then, didn’t you?’

He nodded. ‘I was a mess after that. It’s thanks to R’feem I got through it. He’s a good Wingleader.’

‘You’re not doing a bad job of it yourself.’

‘I didn’t do so well the other day.’

‘You did fine. Even if you’d had more riders on sweep, it wouldn’t have made much difference.’

That was more or less what H’rek had said at the time, but it meant a lot more coming from someone with V’vil’s experience.

He carried on. ‘Anyway, T’rai’s never been so popular. Reckon he’ll have a lot of dragons after Hinarth next time she rises.’

‘Looks as if he’s doing all right for himself tonight.’ He glanced over to where T’rai was sitting very closely with one of the Benden riders.

‘So what happened to those lads? Have you heard?’

‘Manora put in a good word for them and they’ve been allowed to stay. She can always use extra workers in the Lower Caverns.’

‘What’s going on here?’ T’burrad joined them. ‘Any juicy gossip I’ve missed?’

‘Nothing much,’ V’vil said. ‘Just talking about those lads T’rai rescued.’

‘I found out all about them.’ T’burrad waved his cup toward the back of the weyr. ‘Some of those girls from the laundry told us.’

‘Really?’ D’gar wondered what other tales had been spun since the last version he’d heard.

‘Apparently they’re from eastern Bitra. Some farmhold in the foothills.’

It sounded more likely than the one about them being the illegitimate offspring of a Holder who wanted to murder them both, having already hunted down and killed their unfortunate mother.

‘Yeah.’ He turned to V’vil. ‘Remember those two women who trekked through the mountains to High Reaches? It’s the same story, more or less.’

V’vil nodded. ‘They were lucky to make it.'

‘Sorry?’ D’gar didn’t know what they were talking about.

‘Well, you must have had a few folk turn up at Fort who’d been disowned by families. Girls in trouble, lads who fancied other lads and the like.’

‘Now and then.’ Every Turn one or two pregnant girls would arrive, often implying that the fathers of their babies were dragonriders. Whether that was the truth or not, the Weyr always took them in and found work for them.

‘That’s what happened to those two,’ T’burrad continued. ‘One of ‘em’s father found them messing about with each other in the barn and turfed ‘em out. Said he hoped Thread got them both.’

‘Holdbred attitudes,’ V’vil shook his head. ‘They’ll be better off here. Might even end up with dragons if they’re lucky.’

D’gar felt slightly sorrier for the lads. ‘How far did they travel?’

‘On the road for three days, so they said.’

It must have been a frightening journey, not knowing when - or where - Thread might fall. He wondered how many other similar journeys had ended tragically. ‘Makes you glad to be Weyrbred, doesn’t it?’

‘More wine?’ H’rek appeared, carrying a half-full skin.

‘If it’s the good stuff, yes.’ D’gar held out his cup for a refill.

‘Mind you don’t drink too much or you might end up in bed with the wrong person again.’ It was clear from his expression that he was teasing.

D’gar groaned. ‘He’s never going to let me forget that night.’ The other two chuckled.

‘I think J’rud wants a word with you,’ H’rek told him.

‘I’d better see what he’s after then. Excuse me,’ he said to the High Reaches pair. He made his way round the crowded weyr. J’rud had been right about placing the tables the way he’d insisted. It definitely made for easier access to the food and gave people places to stand so they weren’t in the way.

J’rud was talking with Sh’ran and N’bras. ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said. ‘We just wanted to ask you something.’ He patted the space on the couch next to him.

D’gar sat down. ‘Is it about the lads T’rai rescued?’

He shook his head. ’No. N’bras here was telling me how his weyrmate was getting it in the neck from F’drun.’

D’gar looked at N’bras. ‘Is that still happening?’ He’d hoped F’nor would have been concerned enough to do something about it.

N’bras shook his head. ‘No, it’s fine now. That was what we found odd. One minute F’drun’s going out of his way to pick on C’vash, the next he’s totally ignoring him.’

So, maybe F’nor had put in a word. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear that, anyway.’

J’rud spoke again. ‘I was saying to these two how F’drun decided to hate you from day one and it seems as if he did the same to C’vash. What we wanted to ask you was if you had any idea why?’

D’gar glanced around the room. Many of H’rek’s clutchmates were here and some of them had been friends with F’drun when they were in the south. It might be paranoid, but he didn’t want them to overhear anything that might be said. ‘Could we maybe talk about this another time, when there are less people around?’

‘Sure, if that’s what you want.’ J’rud had known him for long enough to understand he didn’t feel comfortable discussing it right now. He changed the subject smoothly. ‘So, what was it you were saying about those kids T’rai rescued?’

‘Well, they’re from Bitra…’

‘Figures,’ N’bras said.

He filled them in on what he knew so far, then carried on working his way around the room, as a good host should. Several people had decided to make use of the pool. M’rell was in there with a woman on either side of him. Both were listening intently as he told them some story or other and as he caught D’gar’s eye he gave a quick smile. Yes, he seemed happy enough. He got some funny looks from L’cal, M’shol and a couple of their friends and noticed that their conversation stopped while he was close. If they felt like that, why had they bothered to come along? Probably for the booze, he decided, or because they hadn’t wanted to miss out on the latest gossip. He wondered if his suspicions were right and they’d be reporting back to F’drun on anything they overheard.

As the evening wore on and more alcohol was consumed, the low buzz of conversation became louder. Someone fell - or was pushed - into the pool fully dressed, amid shrieks of laughter. G’kal had brought his gitar and started singing bawdy ballads. Several others joined in, using an empty platter as a makeshift drum. They even got T’rai up with them and began to improvise a song commemorating his daring rescue of the two poor lads. It wasn’t Harper standard by any means, but by the way people joined in, D’gar suspected it would be popular at the Weyr for a couple of sevendays at least.

Eventually, people began to leave. Once the first few had gone, the rest soon followed. It was always the way at parties, D’gar had noticed, almost as if it needed the impetus of seeing people leaving to get others to make up their mind. Within a fairly short space of time, the weyr was almost empty. T’rai had stumbled out with his chosen companion, still singing. Sh’ran and N’bras stayed to help pick up the debris while J’rud chatted to H’rek. M’rell lounged at the side of the pool with one of the women.

‘Are you going to be able to make it back to your weyr safely?’ D’gar asked, gathering up empty cups around them. ‘You can both stay here if you like.’

The woman giggled. ‘Let’s go back to yours,’ she said, nibbling on M’rell’s ear. ‘It’s a bit more private.’

‘I’ll just call Toth.’ He got to his feet carefully. D’gar suspected he wasn’t as drunk as he was making out. The pair supported each other as they made their slow way out to the ledge. ‘Bye, everyone,’ M’rell called back.

‘Bye-eee,’ shrieked his partner, dissolving into laughter that echoed around the weyr. ‘Ooh, I just fell over a dragon’s tail…’

‘Parties are fun.’ H’rek piled a few platters into the service shaft. ‘It’s clearing up the mess afterwards that’s not so nice.’

‘That was a good one,’ J’rud said. ‘Not as wild as some we’ve had, mind…’

‘We’re getting old.’ D’gar sank down gratefully on one of the chairs. His feet hurt. He’d been standing for most of the evening.

‘What was all that about earlier,’ J’rud said. ‘When you stopped us talking about F’drun?’

‘Thanks for catching on so fast. I didn’t want to talk about him in front of everyone.’

‘Some of my clutchmates might report back,’ H’rek said. ‘A few of them got very friendly with him when we were down south.’

‘What was it you wanted to know, anyway?’ It was so many conversations ago, he’d forgotten.

‘It was about C’vash,’ N’bras said.

‘And why F’drun picked on him,’ J’rud added. ‘Or you, for that matter.’

H’rek came over and perched on the arm of the chair next to D’gar. ‘We tried to figure that out before. We wondered if it was to do with the way someone looked, or the colour of dragon they rode. D’gar even went to High Reaches to try and find out more.’

‘And did you?’ Sh’ran asked.

‘A little. Not enough to figure out his reasons. But I managed to fill in some history and that’s why I’m cautious around him.’

‘Do tell,’ Sh’ran prompted.

D’gar hesitated. He’d told H’rek, of course and R’feem and B’lin also knew, but apart from that, he’d kept his mouth shut. He decided that there was no harm in them knowing the facts. ‘There’s a fair amount of speculation concerning how he got promoted. Let’s just say his former Wingleader died in circumstances that might have been accidental…’

‘Or might not,’ H’rek finished.

‘You think he killed the man?’ N’bras asked, clearly shocked.

‘Well, the High Reaches records say it was an accident, but people who were there at the time have their doubts. Mind you, we all know how Weyr gossip can exaggerate things…’

‘That’s as may be,’ J’rud put in. ‘But he definitely tried to drown you. Lots of us saw that.’

H’rek nodded agreement.

‘I could have drowned,’ D’gar agreed. ‘It certainly felt like it at the time. But dunking people in the lake was something he liked to use as a punishment when he was Wingleader. No-one ever died from it. If Herebeth hadn’t been there, he’d have got Ryth to pull me out.’

‘It was still pretty irresponsible,’ Sh’ran said. ‘I can’t imagine any of the Wingleaders here doing that to anyone. Or the Weyrleader allowing them to, for that matter.’

‘It wouldn’t happen at Fort, either.’ D’gar was quick to reassure him, in case he believed that was normal behaviour in the other five Weyrs.

N’bras sat on the arm of J’rud’s couch. ‘Anything else you found out at High Reaches?’

‘Bullying is definitely something F’drun enjoys. C’vash is just the last in a long line of victims.’

‘So, I wonder why he stopped taking it out on C’vash? Not that either of us are complaining about it.'

D’gar thought it best not to mention his part in that. ‘Well, maybe someone in authority noticed,’ he suggested. ‘Perhaps he was told to stop.’

Sh’ran nodded. ‘That’s possible. Southern’s not a large Weyr, after all.’

‘I’ll bet he’ll do it again, though, to someone else,’ H’rek said. ‘It’s in his nature. It didn’t take him that long to persuade some of my clutchmates to behave in a similar way. He’s a bad influence.’

‘Unfortunately, with Kylara on his side he’ll probably get away with it.’ N’bras shook his head. ‘She can be a bit of a bitch herself.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ D’gar felt edgy. Talking about F’drun was bringing back unpleasant memories of their last encounter. He’d still not mentioned anything to H’rek about the threat that F’drun had made.

‘I still can’t figure out why he’d take a dislike to C’vash.’

‘Or D’gar, for that matter,’ H’rek added, putting an arm over his shoulder. ‘Or that rider at High Reaches who died because of his bullying.’

‘Really?’ J’rud raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know about that one.’

‘It was another thing I found out when I was there. I don’t like to gossip about people.’

‘Yeah, but F’drun deserves it,’ J’rud said. ‘So come on. You can’t not tell us the story now.’

D’gar cast his mind back. ‘They told me about one of the riders F’drun decided to pick on. S’rul was his name. He had a drink problem and F’drun played on that. He got the whole Wing involved in a drinking game and encouraged S’rul to have way too much. The poor bastard went back to his weyr afterwards and choked on his own vomit.’

J’rud made a face. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘And I’m guessing F’drun didn’t get into any trouble for it?’ Sh’ran asked.

‘No. It got brushed aside, just like the Wingleader’s “accident”. V’vil was shaken up by it, though.’

‘Didn’t you tell me something about this rider having lost his weyrmate?’ H’rek asked suddenly.

‘Yes, that’s right. They said that was what started him off drinking too much.’

‘Well, you lost someone too. Maybe that’s the connection?’ H’rek sounded excited.

D’gar wished it was so simple. ‘What about C’vash? His weyrmate is very much alive and well.’ He gestured toward N’bras. ‘So I don’t reckon that’s it.’

H’rek’s face showed he was thinking. ‘Maybe. But there has to be something. C’vash is still getting his strength back after his injuries. I remember one day when we were working, he had to keep taking breaks. He felt really bad about it.’

N’bras nodded agreement. ‘He’s like that. Hates it when he can’t pull his weight.’

‘So he’s vulnerable in that way,’ H’rek concluded. ‘You and S’rul were vulnerable in a different way. But you all had weak points he could use to get at you.’

D’gar considered that for a moment. ‘He’d have known about S’rul’s loss, being at the same Weyr. He’d also have known C’vash had been sent south to recover. But he started on me the day after we’d arrived. How would he have found out about my past so quickly?’

‘Maybe R’feem let it slip? Wouldn’t he have given his new Wingseconds some information on all of the riders?’

‘It’s possible. Except I’m sure I wasn’t the only one in the Wing to have lost someone close to me. We’d all been fighting Thread a long time.’

‘Well, we already ruled out the way you looked, age and the colour of your dragons.’ H’rek sighed. ‘I’m beginning to think it really is random.’

‘What colour did this S’rul ride?’ J’rud asked.

D’gar tried to remember what he’d been told. ’Green, I think.’

‘Same as C’vash,’ N’bras put in.

‘Herebeth’s a brown, though. Although, F’drun has said some nasty things about greens.’

‘Has he? What?’ H’rek asked sharply.

‘There was something when we were on support duty. “Greens die all the time,” he said. He’d been trying to needle me about the way I’d behaved after I’d lost my weyrmate.’ D’gar paused. He’d never discovered how F’drun had found out about his risk-taking, although it could have been as simple as overhearing something said by one of the other riders from Fort. The others still looked puzzled. D’gar explained further. ‘If you’re weyrmates with a Lower Cavern woman, she’s not going to be out in Threadfall, is she? And golds don’t get injured - or die - very often. But greens do. He said that was why they don’t have people like me as Wingseconds at High Reaches.’

‘That’s a bit stupid,’ J’rud put in. ‘So, if you’ve a green weyrmate you can’t be a Wingsecond? Any colour of dragon - except gold, as you said - is just as likely to get hit during Fall. Didn’t R’feem have a blue weyrmate who died?’

‘Yes, it doesn’t really make sense,’ D’gar agreed. ‘Although green dragons make up the highest percentage of any colour in a weyr so obviously there’ll be more green casualties too.’ Something else was nagging at his mind, though. Ryth had only ever been able to catch green dragons; he didn’t have the stamina for the length of a gold flight. That might have caused some resentment on F’drun’s part; it certainly meant he’d never get to become Weyrleader. Maybe that was why he had it in for greens?

‘People like you…’ H’rek mused. ‘And green riders. F’drun’s not Holdbred, is he?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m fairly sure V’vil mentioned he grew up in the Weyr.’ D’gar wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

‘You mean he’s got the same attitudes as most Holdbred folk?’ Sh’ran asked.

H’rek nodded. ‘Exactly.’ He looked at D’gar. ‘You’re Weyrbred. No-one ever criticised you for falling in love with S’brin, did they?’

‘No. Of course not.’ He and S’brin had got together even before they had their own dragons. Agarra’s only reservations had been that they might be a bit too young to get into a long-term relationship.

N’bras gave a grim little smile. ‘If I’d not been Searched, I’d probably be dead by now. I got beaten up enough times at home that even if I’d not Impressed, I’d have opted to stay at the Weyr. It’s much more tolerant here.’

‘Yes, look at those lads who got rescued by T’rai,’ H’rek put in. ‘They were thrown out of their homes and no-one cared if they got eaten by Thread. A lot of Holdbred folk feel that way.’

‘So what you’re saying is that F’drun hates people because of their sexual preferences?’

‘Yes. Exactly. Just like my mother’s husband,’ H’rek said.

D’gar considered that. ’But his dragon catches greens all the time.’

’That probably makes it worse for him,’ H’rek continued. ‘He has to go along with what his dragon wants. Didn’t I hear he deliberately hurt one of the green riders in your Wing?’

’T’rai.’ J’rud offered. ‘Ryth flew his dragon and F’drun beat him up while they were in the flight cave. That’s why I was so uptight about the mating flights when Prideth rose. I was scared that if Ryth didn’t catch Prideth he might settle for Zurinth.’ He smiled at Sh’ran. ‘Guess I was lucky Izaeth caught her.’

H’rek was warming to his theory. ‘I bet if you could find out more of the folk he’s picked on, that’d be proof of the pattern. You see, I said there’s always a reason, even if it’s not immediately obvious.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ He still didn’t understand F’drun’s reasoning, especially as he was Weyrbred. He needed to ask the three from High Reaches for more information to check if the theory was correct. ‘Mind you, even if we know why F’drun chooses certain people to bully, it’s not going to stop him, is it?’

‘No, it’s not.’ H’rek fell silent. ‘But there has to be something we can do.’

D’gar considered the options. T’kul had got rid of F’drun when he had the opportunity. Maybe F’lar could do the same? Although that only moved the problem onto someone else’s plate. He remembered what had been said to him on that first evening. “All you can do is hope that Thread gets him.” But that left an awful lot to chance. How many other lives might the man damage in the mean time?


	38. Opportunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar has some difficult decisions to make

High over the Benden mountain range, D’gar was putting the youngsters through their paces. It wasn’t as enjoyable with this half of Prideth’s clutch due to the attitude of a few, although it was good to be flying with H’rek and Rioth. To be honest, the bronzes hadn’t been too bad. It was really only three of them - M’shol, L’cal and As’gal - who still had issues with him.

Today, he’d had all of the clutch catching sacks full of rocks mid-air; good practice for when they finally joined a Wing. They were used to handling the sacks from the other end; throwing them across to riders when they were on delivery duty, so the weight didn’t bother them. Gauging the speed and angle of the catch was a skill that took a little while to perfect and it was best to learn it here, over bare rocks, where if a sack was dropped it wouldn’t damage anything - or anyone - below.

Several sacks had fallen during the practice so he’d sent the annoying threesome to collect them, together with as much of the contents as they could find. They’d grumbled, but done as he’d ordered. Once they’d finished, he got the dragons to land on a plateau while he talked everyone through the exercise.

‘You’ve all been on deliveries for a while now, so what do you think is the most difficult part of it?’

‘When it’s windy it’s really hard to keep flying level for long enough.’ As a green rider, G’kal would notice that more than those who rode the heavier dragons. Even the Benden greens with their larger size, found it hard work when conditions were windy.

‘That’s true. There’s not much you can do about that one, unfortunately. You’ll probably find it easier delivering to the browns or bronzes, as they’ll be able to fly more steadily even if you can’t.’ They’d probably not thought of that. He’d had to be told the obvious back when he’d been a weyrling, too. ‘If you’re the one responsible for scheduling deliveries from the dump, that’s something to think about. Don’t make a green deliver to another green; they’ll be all over the place.’

‘Watching out for stray Thread when you’re trying to make the delivery can be difficult,’ said B’dor. ‘I nearly got a face full when we were down south, I was so focussed on getting the sacks across.’

‘Technically speaking, it should be the wing rider’s job to scan for Thread. While a rider’s getting a firestone delivery, those on either side of him in the formation should be taking up the slack and dealing with anything he can’t.’ The Southern Wings, made up as they were of youngsters and riders recovering from injuries, were generally a lot less tight in their flying formations. ‘You’ll probably find that here at Benden, there’s better Wing discipline and less chance that sort of thing will happen. You should still keep your eyes open, though. We can all make mistakes and get caught out.’

H’rek spoke up next. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to judge when to fly up to another dragon and when to hold back.’

‘That comes with experience. You need to assess the way Thread’s falling and get your dragon to speak to the one you’ll be delivering to. He might ask you to wait until he’s flamed a clump, or he might leave it for his wing mate and get you to come up fast while there’s a space. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all how important the communication aspect is. I’ve seen dragons get flamed by accident when someone didn’t think to let a rider know they were coming up alongside.’

Several of them winced at that.

‘Mind you, I don’t see any crispy bits on either you or your dragons, so you must be doing something right.’ That got a laugh, even from L’cal. Good. He was getting through to them. ‘We’ll discuss a bit more Thread fighting theory before the next session. All of your dragons have worked well and I’m guessing your arms and shoulders are fairly tired by now, so we’ll call it a day.’

_They are doing well,_ Herebeth commented as they descended over the Weyr. _The dragons enjoy it too._

_Good._ He never minded spending a couple of free hours flying and he’d found training the youngsters an enjoyable job. Might even keep them alive a while longer. _Landing formation, please._

Herebeth passed it on and the group made a tidy landing, especially considering the extra weight carried by most of the dragons. That wouldn’t do them any harm either. They were fully grown now and could afford to build up some muscle.

As he dismounted, F’nor strolled over. ‘Been working them hard, again?’

‘I try to.’ He appreciated the fact that F’nor and J’cul had done much of the youngsters basic weyrling training. They’d made a decent job of it; it wasn’t their fault they’d not had any practical experience of Thread fighting to pass on.

‘If you’ve a spare minute, the Weyrleader would like to see you. He’s in the council room.’ F’nor must have noticed his expression, for he chuckled. ‘Relax, man. You’re not in any trouble.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘Don’t know why you’d think you would be. Everyone knows you’re doing a good job.’ He waited while D’gar took the straps off Herebeth, who then gave himself a good shake and stretched out his wings. They walked together toward the Senior Queen’s Weyr and up the steps.

F’lar was alone, with several hides unrolled across the table. It looked as if he was working on a revised version of his charts for Southern. He stopped writing as he heard them arrive.

‘Ah, D’gar. Good to see you. Sit down. F’nor, why don’t you fetch some klah?’

‘Sure.’ He called the order down the service shaft.

D’gar found himself drawn to the charts; diagonal lines laid across a partial map of Pern. The northern continent was fully inked in whereas the south remained largely unknown.

‘It’ll be useful when we can get some more surveys done to find out the extent of the southern lands.’ F’lar always seemed at his most enthusiastic when he had a project on his hands.

‘Maybe the recovering riders down south could do some of that,’ D’gar suggested.

‘I suppose they could. Now we’ve a better idea when Thread’s going to fall over the Weyr and surrounding area it will be good to give them something to do on rest days. But that’s not why I asked you to come and see me.’

F’nor carried a tray across with three steaming cups, which he set down carefully on a clear part of the table.

‘F’nor tells me you’re doing a good job of teaching those youngsters.’

He shrugged. ‘Just passing on some tips, really.’

‘We can all use those. Knowledge should be passed on, rather than kept among a select few, I’ve always thought.’

D’gar nodded agreement and blew on his klah to cool it.

‘Not everyone agrees with you,’ F’nor put in. ‘Craft secrets and all that.’

‘I’m still working on some of the… shall we say, more hidebound among us.’ F’lar sighed. ‘If information had been more widely shared, we might not have lost so many techniques over the Long Interval.’

He was probably right, D’gar thought, although he wasn’t sure where it had any relevance to him.

‘You seem to enjoy training folk,’ F’lar continued.

‘I suppose I do. Plus, I’m still young enough to remember what it was like to be a weyrling.’

‘True.’ He smiled. ‘It’s been a few more Turns since F’nor and I were in the barracks.’

D’gar wondered what he was getting at. He took a cautious sip of the klah.

‘As you probably know, we don’t currently have a Weyrlingmaster at Benden.’

‘I’d heard that, yes.’

‘And Ramoth will be laying her next clutch soon, so we need to make sure someone’s in place before they hatch. I was wondering if you’d be interested in the job.’

D’gar was surprised. ‘I’m not old enough, or experienced enough,’ he protested. ‘You want someone who’s been fighting Thread for Turns in that role.’

‘Well, you’ve got more experience than any of us. And as you just said, you remember what it was like to be a weyrling. Maybe they listen to you better because you’re closer to their age. Whatever it is, they’re learning fast.’

D’gar took another drink of klah, more to give himself time to consider the possibility. ‘I wouldn’t be able to do the job full time and be Wingleader as well.’

‘No, of course not. But once R’feem’s wrist is healed, he’ll be coming back anyway. We’d been thinking…’ and he glanced at F’nor, ‘that you might enjoy the extra responsibility once that happens.’

It was true. Going back to being Wingsecond would feel strange after having been in charge. And when they finally returned to Fort, he’d probably end up as just a plain wing rider. Which reminded him of something else. ‘You’d want a Benden rider as Weyrlingmaster. I’m not.’

‘That’s not insurmountable,’ F’lar said. ‘I’m told that it’s quite common for riders to transfer when there’s more than one Weyr on Pern. If you wanted to, that is,’ he added.

‘Well…’ It would solve a lot of problems. ‘I’d have to think about that.’ Face it, he’d been thinking about it for a while; had even mentioned the possibility a few times. Now he’d been handed a solution. ‘You’d need to speak to my Weyrleader too…’ He realised he’d been thinking aloud. ‘Er, if I decided to accept, obviously.’

‘Give yourself a couple of days,’ F’lar said.’ There’s no need to rush. Ramoth won’t be laying any eggs for another month or so. But we will need to Search candidates beforehand and get them prepared, so don’t leave it too long.’

‘No.’ He finished his klah. ‘Er, can I mention this to my weyrmate? I’d like to talk it over with him.’

‘Of course.’

He left them, walking back through the empty Queen’s Weyr. The Bowl was filled with afternoon sunshine, the lake water sparkling. The weather here wasn’t always so bad, he considered. The food was fine as well, now that they were getting proper tithes in. If he decided to take it, he’d be doing a job that really made a difference. A difficult job, though. He remembered N’teren, the Weyrlingmaster back when he’d Impressed. It had been a constant effort to keep his charges under control. Could he really deal with forty or more teenage lads and a load of young dragons? Well, he wasn’t doing too badly with Prideth’s clutch, even the ones who didn’t like him much. He’d have to brush up on his Teaching Ballads and get up to date with all the additions that had been made in the last four hundred Turns since he’d learned them. But he had a good memory, so that wouldn’t be too onerous. Then there was the worst aspect of being Weyrlingmaster. How would he handle it if - when - those young men and their dragons were lost? It could happen even during training and it would definitely happen when they progressed to delivering firestone and of course, once they joined a Wing.

He realised he’d walked half way across to the Lower Caverns, so deep in thought as he’d been. The dragons had dispersed by now. He glanced up to his weyr ledge, spotting Herebeth and Rioth curled there together, enjoying the sunshine. Pity to disturb them, really.

_Is H’rek up there with you?_ he asked Herebeth.

_No. He stayed down in the Bowl._

_Then I’ll try to find him._ He made his way over to the dining hall. A few riders were sitting at the outside benches and tables, but H’rek wasn’t there. He went inside; it was almost a pity to be indoors on a bright day like this. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, when he saw H’rek sitting over by the night-hearth, sipping klah as Av’rar demonstrated a flying manoeuvre they’d been practising earlier using two sweet rolls.

H’rek noticed him and budged up to make space. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Fine. Just some Wing business.’ He didn’t want to say anything in front of Av’rar, even though he was longing to tell H’rek the news. ‘Where’s everyone else?’

‘Some of them went to their weyrs and a couple of the bronzes wanted to feed after all that exercise.’

‘They were moaning a bit,’ Av’rar said. ‘About you making them pick up the rocks.’

‘It won’t do them any harm. They’re always trying to get out of work.’

‘Yeah, like shovelling firestone…’ Av’rar carried on, but right then Herebeth started talking, so he tuned it out. _Marth’s rider is looking for you. He has a message._

_Tell him I’m in the dining hall._

‘…but they aren’t as bad now as they were when we were in the south,’ H’rek was saying.

‘Will it stay that way though, when we go back?’

‘If they start shirking, or picking on you, you should say something,’ D’gar told them. ‘I know it feels like telling tales, but this needs to be stopped.’ He spotted a rider looking around. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ He got up and made his way over.

‘Wingleader D’gar?’

‘That’s right. My dragon just said you’ve something for me.’

He reached into his pocket and brought out a small piece of hide, rolled up. ‘A young bronze rider gave me this. Said it was to be handed only to you.’

He checked the seal and found it unbroken. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’ The man seemed a little disappointed when he didn’t open it right away, but he obviously realised he wasn’t about to find out the contents.

D’gar returned to the night hearth.

‘What was all that about,’ H’rek asked.

‘Oh, nothing much.’ He didn’t want to say anything in front of Av’rar. The youngster was probably trustworthy, but the fewer people who knew about S’fyn’s mission, the better.

H’rek looked at him quizzically. ‘Is someone sending you secret love letters?’

‘Of course not.’ D’gar laughed at the thought. ‘Look, there’s something I need to talk through with you. Sorry, Av’rar, but I can’t say much to anyone about it right now.’

‘No, that’s fine. I understand.’

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said to H’rek. ‘As it’s such a lovely day.’ The open air was best. Less people around to possibly overhear.

‘Fine.’

They strolled out of the dining hall. He guided them toward the lake and feeding grounds, feeling the note burning a hole in his pocket. It could wait, though. He had other things to talk about first.

‘So, what’s all the mystery, then?’ H’rek asked, after they’d gone a little way.

‘It wasn’t just Wing business the Weyrleader wanted to see me about.’

‘Oh? I can see by your smile it wasn’t anything bad.’

‘Quite the opposite. This is confidential, mind. I don’t want anything getting out to anyone.’

‘I can keep secrets.’

‘Well, F’lar asked if I wanted to stay at Benden Weyr. And be Weyrlingmaster.’

H’rek almost jumped for joy. ‘That’s brilliant. So you said yes, obviously.’

‘I said I wanted to think about it. And talk to you, as well.’

His face dropped slightly. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Well, I’m not sure as I’m the right person for the job, to start with.’

‘Why not?’

‘A few reasons. I don’t think I’ve got enough experience, for one thing.’

‘That’s rubbish. You’ve more experience than anyone else here fighting Thread.’

F’lar had said much the same. ‘That’s fair enough. But all the Weyrlingmasters I’ve met have been in their forties or fifties.’

‘Because they have Turns of experience, presumably.’

‘Yes, and so the youngsters respect their authority.’

‘You don’t have a problem with that, as far as I’ve seen. You’d be great at it. You’re a really good teacher.’ He was getting all enthusiastic again.

D’gar realised H’rek had limited experience of the role; he wasn’t Weyrbred for a start and he’d not come through the system in the same way as someone like himself. ‘A fair few weyrlings don’t make it, you know. Some never come back from their first jump _between_. Others die during the later stages of training, before they even get to join a Wing. Like your clutch mate, R’gan. I’m not sure how I’d deal with that.’ It was the reason many Weyrlingmasters during a Pass only lasted for a couple of Turns before giving up the job.

‘Oh.’ H’rek had obviously not considered that, either. ‘That must be tough.’

‘So that’s why I didn’t jump at the offer straight away. I know it would solve a few problems, but I want to be sure it’s the right thing.’

They walked a little further. ‘You cope with deaths better than most of us,’ H’rek said at last. ‘I mean, most of us from Benden, or Southern.’

‘That’s through necessity. I’ve seen enough of them. And it’s not so bad when it’s someone you don’t know that well. If it’s a pair from your Wing, or your clutch; a friend, that’s different.’ As Weyrlingmaster, you invested a lot of time in people. It would be inevitable that you’d develop an affection for them. Their loss would hit hard. ‘You’ve heard what a mess I was after S’brin died. I don’t want to go through that again.’

‘You loved him, though. I’m hoping you aren’t going to go falling in love with every good looking teenage lad you end up training.’

‘Like you, you mean?’

He smiled. ‘Maybe that wasn’t the best example.’ He paused. ‘If you don’t take it, I wonder who will? They haven’t exactly got a surplus of riders here, have they?’

D’gar could see his thinking. It was a good point and possibly one of the reasons he’d been asked, rather than an existing Benden rider. ‘That’s true.’

‘We could stay together here, if you did decide to.’

‘I know. I’d been thinking about putting in for a transfer anyway, once it came near the time for us to be sent back.’ Asking for a transfer didn’t always mean you’d get it, not unless you had some particular skill that was useful to the Weyr. Accepting this job would bring certainty.

‘Or I could,’ H’rek suggested. ‘I mean, it doesn’t matter which Weyr we’re at, does it?’

‘Well, maybe, but I think I’d fit in better here than you would at Fort.’ Benden was becoming used to the other five Weyrs. Their attitude seemed more adaptable. If H’rek was at Fort, he’d stand out right away, if only because Rioth was so much larger than any of the greens bred in the past. ‘They’ve plenty of dragons there, too, so they’d be less likely to accept anyone wanting to come in. And Benden’s under strength, like you said, so they probably wouldn’t be so keen to let you go. No, it’d be easier for me to get a transfer.’

‘I can see that.’ They carried on walking. ‘How long do you have to make your mind up?’

‘There’s no rush, they said. But they want someone in place before Ramoth’s eggs hatch.’

‘Well, give it a few days, then. Are you going to speak to R’feem?’

‘I suppose I should.’ That would mean a trip to Fort. Mind you, it was about time he went back to visit.

‘He won’t want to lose you from the Wing.’

‘Probably not. Still, if there’s a space, he might take one of you youngsters. And V’vil could stay as Wingsecond…’

‘You see, you’re talking about it as if it’s going to happen. That must mean you’re seriously considering it.’

H’rek was right. He’d been doing that ever since he left the council room. He just didn’t want to jump into it because it was easy, or convenient. That was the wrong way to approach any new venture. ‘I know you’re excited about it, but please don’t say anything.’

‘I already promised not to.'

‘Sorry. Just edgy.’ He put his hand into his pocket to make sure the scroll was still there.

H’rek noticed. ‘So what was that note about?’

‘That’s even more confidential. I need to read it first before I know if I can tell you about it.’ They’d almost reached the lake. A couple of dragons were bathing, but it was a quiet enough spot. He sat down on a bench. H’rek stayed by the shore, skimming stones to give him some privacy while he broke the seal and read it.

It was short - there wouldn’t have been room to get much on such a small piece of hide - and S’fyn had obviously thought about what might happen if it was read by someone else so had avoided any specifics in the message.

“Some important information has come to my attention. Really need to meet up as soon as possible. Send message through the dragons for place and time.”

He re-read it, then rolled it up again. It would be easier for him to go to Southern than for S’fyn to get away. He could even do it on the same day he visited Fort. They way, no one would suspect he was meeting anyone in the south.

‘Well?’ H’rek asked. ‘Can you tell me?’

‘Come and sit down.’ There was no-one about to overhear. ‘Someone in Southern is keeping an eye on F’drun for me,’ he said quietly.

‘Really? Like a spy?’

‘Well, sort of. I know it sounds paranoid, but I want to know what he’s up to.’

‘Can’t blame you for that really.’ H’rek scuffed his feet on the dusty ground. ‘So, has he found out anything?’

‘Sounds like it. He wants to meet me to talk about it.’

‘Is that safe?’

‘I’ll be careful. I was thinking we could meet at that waterfall where you used to go. It’s well away from the Weyr.’

‘Trouble is, that’s quite a popular place in the afternoons when everyone’s resting. And afternoons are going to be when he can slip away easily.’ H’rek said. ‘I know somewhere better. Rioth can give Herebeth the co-ordinates then he can pass them on to your informant’s dragon. Is he a Southern rider?’

D’gar paused a moment, unsure of how much to give away. ‘He’s been there before, yes.’

‘Then he’ll know the place. We used to take the support staff there to gather herbs and stuff. It’s a fair dragon ride from the Weyr so no-one would wander there by accident.’

‘That sounds a good plan.’

‘Pity you can’t just communicate through the dragons. It would save a lot of trouble.’

‘Yes, but you know how dragons are. Sending simple instructions is fine, or arranging a meeting. Trying to have a complicated conversation just doesn’t work very well.’

‘I suppose not.’ He sighed. ‘Another two sevendays and we’ll be going back again. Time’s flown so fast.’

‘I know. Still, look on the bright side. Prideth’s going to be laying more eggs soon. Once they hatch there’ll be more weyrlings to bag up firestone. They might decide to bring you all back to Benden permanently then.’

‘I hope so. You think F’drun will stay there?’

‘As long as he keeps on the right side of Kylara, I don’t see him coming back. Makes life easier for me and the Wing that way. I’m just sorry that you’ll be in his way.’

‘He can’t do anything, really. He’s got no authority.’

D’gar didn’t want to have to tell him about the threat F’drun had made. It might come to nothing. Or he might know more after speaking to S’fyn. ’Still makes life unpleasant though, if he stirs up those bronze riders again.’

‘We’ve talked about that, me and some of the others. If they start trying to push us around, we’re going to complain to T’bor. He must have stopped F’drun bullying C’vash, after all.’

That was true, although it had probably been as a result of intervention by the Benden leadership. T’bor didn’t strike him as a bad person, but his weak spot was his love for Kylara. That was a woman used to getting what she wanted and she had no qualms about how she managed it. ‘You can try. If enough people complain, he can’t ignore it.’ Not if he’s a half-decent Weyrleader, he added silently. ‘Anyway, we’d best get back. Do you think those lazy dragons will have had enough of a rest by now to take us up to our weyr?’

‘Let’s hope so.’


	39. Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar visits Fort Weyr, then meets S'fyn in the south.

D’gar decided to visit Fort the following day. He’d already checked to make sure there was no Threadfall forecast either there, or in Southern. It gave him most of the morning and early afternoon at Benden, due to the time difference. If he left Fort before lunch, a hop to Southern on the return journey would mean he arrived there during the hottest part of the day, when everyone rested and S’fyn could slip away.

‘Sure you don’t want me to come along?’ H’rek asked.

It was tempting, but too much of a risk to let anyone else to know about S’fyn. ‘No, best you stay here. Unless you want to visit your family in Southern Boll, then drop in with me to see Agarra.’

‘Think I’ll pass on that.’

‘You should do, you know. Your little sister would love to see Rioth again.’

‘I know. But it’s the rest of it I can’t deal with.’

There was no point trying to push him. D’gar gave thanks once again he didn’t have to worry about Holdbred attitudes.

‘Anyway, Bavi’s organised a picnic down by the lake later on. She’s trying to encourage those two lads T’rai rescued to get to know other weyrfolk. You know she’s got them working with her in the laundry now?’

‘I didn’t, no.’

‘I reckon she’ll end up fostering them, at least for a while, until they decide what they’re going to do.’

‘Well, she is quite a motherly sort.’ He fastened the strap around Herebeth’s chest. ‘Good for her.’

‘Be careful, anyway.’

D’gar knew H’rek wasn’t referring to his trip to Fort. ‘Of course. I know what I’m doing. And Herebeth will make sure I don’t get into any bother. I should be back by sunset.’

‘You can join us by the lake, if we’re still there. It’s looking as if the weather’s going to hold.’ He glanced up to the cloudless sky. ‘Might even be warm enough for a swim.’

‘Rather you than me. I’ve some bad memories of that lake.’

‘Then we’ll have to make some better ones.’ H’rek smiled. ‘See you later.’

It was still early morning at Fort when Herebeth emerged from _between_. _Let Piroth know we would like to visit,_ he told his dragon.

_I shall._ Herebeth banked into a slow, steady descent. There was more cloud over this part of Pern, but the air was still warmer than at the more northerly Benden. The familiar shape of Tooth Crag rose up over the Weyr Bowl. Dragons were already up on the heights, catching the sun whenever the clouds allowed. The Weyr looked much as it always had done in the old days and D’gar had that familiar sense of coming home. How would it feel if - when - this was no longer his Weyr? Deep down, he knew that he was more likely to accept F’lar’s offer than not. It made sense, in the long term. He hoped R’feem would agree. Having the Wingleader’s approval mattered to him.

_Piroth invites me to land on his ledge._ Herebeth dropped him off at R’feem’s weyr, then flew up to the heights to join the others.

R’feem pulled back the curtain. ‘What brings you to Fort?’

‘Quick visit to mum and, well, I needed to talk to you about something, too.'

‘Oh, yes?’ R’feem offered him a seat and called for klah. His weyr was equipped with a service shaft similar to those at Benden.

‘How’s your wrist getting along?’ D’gar had noticed that R’feem wasn’t using the sling any more.

‘Hebiri says it’s healing nicely,’ he called from the back of the weyr. ‘It doesn’t really hurt any more. But I need to be careful about lifting any weight for a little while yet. No catching firestone sacks mid-air for a few more sevendays, they reckon.’ He came back with two steaming mugs. ‘So, what’s the problem?’

‘It’s not a problem, exactly.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve had an offer. From Benden. F’lar would like me to transfer and take over as their Weyrlingmaster.’

R’feem raised his eyebrows slightly. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Just yesterday. I wanted to know what your thoughts were.’

‘They’re obviously impressed with all that training you’ve been doing,’ he said, after a pause.

D’gar shrugged. ‘Seems like it.’

R’feem poured two mugs of klah with a steady hand. ’You know that being Weyrlingmaster involves a lot more than just teaching them how to dodge Thread. You’d be responsible for a clutch from the moment they stumble off the Hatching Grounds until they join a Wing. It’s a full-time position.’

‘I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. F’lar said it wasn’t urgent right now, but that they’d like someone in place by the time Ramoth’s eggs hatch.’ He watched R’feem’s expression carefully as he spoke, but the Wingleader’s face remained impassive. ‘Obviously, I’m not going to go leaving you all in the lurch. I’ll carry on as Wingleader until you’re fit enough to take over again. I’ve already told them that.’

‘Sounds as if you’ve made your mind up already.’

‘Not exactly. I talked through it with H’rek yesterday and I wanted to do the same with you before I tell them one way or another. It’s a big step and I don’t want to take it lightly. I reckon I’ve thought of all the pitfalls, but you’ve a lot more experience and I value your advice…’

R’feem sipped his klah. ‘So you want to know if I think you could do the job?’

D’gar nodded. He trusted R’feem to tell him the truth.

‘You’re a bit young for it,’ he said slowly, pausing as he waited for D’gar to respond.

‘That’s the first thing I said when the Weyrleader asked me. But he pointed out I’ve more practical experience of Threadfighting than anyone at Benden, whatever their age.’

‘True enough.’ R’feem sipped his klah. ‘It’s not just down to experience, though. Youngsters find it easier to respect someone a good few Turns older than they are.’

‘I know. I told him that too.’

‘So, why do you think they want you specifically?’

‘They know me. They reckon I’d be good at it. They don’t have a lot of spare riders.’ He counted off the points on his fingers. ‘F’nor knows I’m weyrmates with H’rek and that I want to be able to stay with him. Transferring to Benden is the obvious way to make sure of that. Not that I’d take the job just for that reason,’ he added quickly.

R’feem considered for a while. ‘Think you’ll be able to cope with losing lads and dragons?’

‘That’s the one thing I’m not sure about.’ He knew that N’teren, the Weyrlingmaster at Fort had hidden a lot of emotion beneath that gruff exterior. You couldn’t do the job well if you didn’t care, but you had to be able to keep a distance too. ‘I’d like to think that I can but I guess I won’t know for certain until I’m doing it.’

‘We’ve both seen a lot of folk die over the Turns. I know how you were after S’brin went.’ He stared into the steam rising from his klah. ‘I wasn’t a lot better when I lost A’til.’

That had been his former weyrmate, D’gar knew. They’d been together a long time. It had happened while he was still a weyrling so he’d been unaware of how it had affected R’feem.

‘Leading the Wing kept me going. I knew everyone was relying on me, so I couldn’t let myself fall apart. Losing someone from the Wing isn’t quite as bad, but it’s still someone you’ve become close to. As you’d get close to the weyrlings you were in charge of.’

‘That’s why some Weyrlingmasters resign. I know.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about all of that.’

‘Do you feel as if you could do the job?’ R’feem asked. ‘Do you think you’d take to it?’

That was the crunch, really. ‘I like having responsibility. That’s why I’ve enjoyed being Wingleader. I know I’m good at teaching folks. Yes, I reckon I could.’

‘I reckon you could, too,’ he said. ‘It’s a good opportunity. Mind you, I’d be sorry to lose you.’

That was another sticking point. R’feem had done so much for him over the Turns. ‘You’ve taught me so much. Helped me out. I feel like I owe it to you to be loyal, but…’

‘There’s always a but.’ He smiled wryly.

‘What happens when it’s time for us to come back?’ D’gar had thought about that quite a bit. ‘Will we stay together as a Wing, or get split up?’ That had been the most likely scenario before they’d been sent to fill in at Benden.

‘No-one knows.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you a definite answer to that. But there’s one more thing you should take into account before you make your decision. I didn’t realise myself until I came back, but weyrfolk here aren’t too fond of Benden at the moment.’

‘Really? Why?’

R’feem continued. ‘It’s complicated. Some of the riders think Benden’s partly to blame for the attitude of modern Holders and Crafters. Others have just begun to realise we’ve another fifty Turns of fighting Thread ahead of us. There’s a general feeling that modern folk aren’t as appreciative as they might be that we’re putting our lives on the line for them. Now, things might get better, as everyone adapts to this day and age…’

’Or it might not? Is that what you’re trying to say?’ Not everyone could, or wanted to change.

R’feem shrugged. ‘Who knows? But I’ve defended Benden’s way of doing things a couple of times and it’s not made me popular. The way things are at the moment, if you decide to transfer I don’t reckon T’ron would want you back, even if things didn’t work out.’

That would hit him hard. He had friends and family at Fort. ’I’d still be able to visit?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think they’d go so far as to stop you. But if you came here wearing Benden knots, you might not get the same sort of welcome you’re used to.’

R’feem’s words confirmed it would be even less likely that H’rek would be able to transfer from Benden to Fort. At least now, he knew where he stood. ‘Well, you’ve given me plenty to think about.’

‘Let me know when you make up your mind. I won’t say anything until then.’

‘Thanks.’ He finished his klah, then shook R’feem’s hand. ‘I appreciate this.’

‘I appreciate you asking me. And carry on the way you are with the Wing. I’ve been hearing nothing but good. Makes it easier on me, knowing there’s someone capable looking after the lads.’

He called Herebeth and dropped down to the Bowl, still mulling over what he’d learned. Nothing was ever easy, he reflected.

Agarra welcomed him with a hug, as always. He’d not been to see her since he was promoted and she called over several of her friends in the kitchen to show him off. ‘My son. Wingleader at just twenty-three Turns. Can’t do better than that.’ She sounded very proud.

D’gar smiled, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be so happy knowing he was considering a transfer to Benden. ‘It’s only temporary,’ he said, several times. ‘Only until R’feem’s able to fly again.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she replied. ‘He wouldn’t have put you in charge if he didn’t trust you.’ He was forced to drink another mug of klah and to eat some of the cake she’d just made. She also wrapped up some treats for him. ‘It’ll be wonderful to have you back here for good,’ she said, waving him off and making him feel even more guilty.

_Do we have to go right now?_ Even Herebeth seemed loath to leave.

_Sorry, yes._ Dragons could be terrible gossips and he didn’t want to let slip that he had somewhere else to visit before returning to Benden. It was only when they were high in the air that he gave Herebeth the co-ordinates Rioth had shared with them.

_That is not Benden._

_No, it’s Southern._

_Why do we go there? Rioth is at Benden._

_I need to see someone. No telling any of the other dragons, though._

It had been pleasantly warm over Fort, but when they emerged from _between_ , the heat and humidity enveloped them like a blanket just out of the washing tub. D’gar kept as close an eye on his surroundings as if he was in the middle of Fall, checking for Thread. He didn’t want to be spotted by anyone other than S’fyn.

_Tell Folath we are here._

_I thought you did not want me to tell any other dragons._ Herebeth’s mental tone sounded amused.

_Don’t be difficult. You know what I mean._

They landed on a riverbank, next to a small stand of trees. It was a short while later that he spotted the glint of sun on a bronze hide as Folath descended to meet them. S’fyn jumped off as soon as he’d touched down and encouraged D’gar to follow him and his dragon under cover of the trees. ‘I’m pretty sure I got away without being seen but you can’t be too careful.’

‘So, what’s happened then? Your message didn’t give very much away.’

‘That was deliberate. I didn’t think T’shon would open it, but you just can’t tell.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m suspicious of everyone these days. Comes with the territory.’

D’gar appreciated how he felt. Not knowing who could be trusted was a difficult situation to be in. ’You don’t have to keep on doing this if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I can’t stop now. I’d rather know what’s going on than not. Once I tell you what’s been said, I think you’ll agree.’ He sank down next to his dragon. ‘You were so right about F’drun. He's definitely up to no good. Where do I even start?’

‘At the beginning? How did you get him to talk to you?’

‘Oh, that bit was easy. The day after we arrived he was showing off to some of the youngsters, so I just joined in. Laughing at his stupid jokes and pretending to be impressed. He asked what I thought of you so I said I thought you were just a jumped-up nobody who’d got where he was by luck rather than talent. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. It’s what you needed to do.’

‘Anyway, F’drun invited us back to his wallow. There were just a couple of us. Two others from my clutch and another young rider who’s here recovering. Bit of a dimglow, I thought. That’s the type who seems to get sucked in by him. Most of the older riders don’t like him much, especially the ones from T’bor’s Wing.’

That was interesting. ’Is he still in with Kylara?’

S’fyn nodded. ‘Definitely. She flaunts it, especially when T’bor’s around. It’s all part of her game. F’drun’s flattered by the attention. He keeps telling us what an amazing woman she is.’

‘So, he’s smitten with her. That figures.’ From what he’d seen of Kylara’s behaviour, she and F’drun were well matched. He still didn’t get why T’bor was so enamoured of her, especially considering how she treated him. Or maybe that was what he enjoyed?

‘She’s always been the same,’ S’fyn said. ‘She’ll have a favourite for a while, then drop him. But I think there’s more going on with those two than just sex. They’re planning something together.’ He paused. ‘Some of the things he’s said…’

D’gar had suspected the same himself, when they were at Benden. ’Go on.’

‘That first time we talked, he gave us all a few cups of wine, then he started asking our opinions on various things. Like what we thought of the way Southern was being run, whether we reckoned T’bor was any good as Weyrleader. I mostly let the others talk and agreed when it seemed appropriate. That was about as far as it went, that time. I figure he was just finding out if we thought along the same lines as he did.’

D’gar nodded, encouraging him to continue.

‘We met a couple of times like that, just chatting. Plenty of alcohol involved, to loosen tongues. F’drun kept telling us how good he was at fighting Thread, how he’s got more experience than anyone else here. He said Kylara wants him to be made a Wingleader, but T’bor’s not keen. He reckons T’bor sees him as a threat.’

D’gar thought T’bor was unlikely to promote a man who was carrying on openly with his Weyrwoman. He’d want Wingleaders he knew were loyal to him and whom he could trust.

S’fyn continued. ’Anyway, he told us a story about this bronze rider at High Reaches who wanted to be Weyrleader, but his dragon wasn’t the fastest or strongest and he’d failed to catch the Senior Queen a few times. This rider, Os’tor, had a couple of friends who were also bronze riders. They came up with a plan to help him win. Firstly, he befriended the Weyrwoman - just like F’drun with Kylara - so that he could find out when her dragon was close to rising. Then they made sure the Weyrleader was out of the picture.’

‘How?’ It sounded intriguing.

‘It was during Threadfall. A bag of firestone fell on him. No one could prove it wasn’t an accident.’

‘They killed him?’ This was turning nasty.

‘No, but he was badly hurt. Unconscious. And in the mean time, they’d all worked out what they were going to do. There was this other dragon they thought might be in with a chance, so the friends got their dragons to block him during the flight. They kept him away from the queen for long enough that Os’tor’s dragon won. Once he was Weyrleader, he rewarded all his friends by making them Wingleaders.’

‘That’s all very well, but what happened the next time the queen rose?’

‘He made sure any of his rivals were out of the way. Some got transferred to other Weyrs. Others were warned off; they, or people they cared about were threatened. And his friends carried on helping him. It obviously worked, because he stayed Weyrleader for almost twenty Turns.’

‘What about the previous Weyrleader? The one who was injured?’

‘I asked about that. F’drun gave one of these horrible smiles and said he died in his sleep. I got the impression he might have been helped along.’ S’fyn looked uneasy. ‘Do you think he’s planning on doing the same at Southern? Because that’s what I reckon. That’s why I needed to tell you.’

D’gar shivered, despite the warmth. It felt as if he was back in the chilly archives at High Reaches, listening to Pilgra’s account. The gentle sway of the branches above their heads, the sound of the river’s placid flow seemed far removed from the intrigue S’fyn was suggesting. But as he considered what he’d been told, he spotted a flaw in the plan. ‘You’re forgetting one thing. Firstly, Prideth’s only just mated. He’d have to wait a while to make his move.’

‘Oh, he knows that. It’s why he’s getting folk on his side now, so he’s ready when the time comes. That’s why he wants us to start practising.’

‘Practising?’

‘Yes, on green flights. He wants us to send our dragons up. Not to win, necessarily, but just to see if we can change the outcome. Stop the dragon who looks like winning.’

‘That’s easier said than done. Has Folath chased anyone yet?’

‘A green. Didn’t catch her though.’ He gave a wry smile.

‘Then you know what it’s like. Most riders aren’t in any fit state to start thinking about anything except what’s on their dragon’s mind.’

‘That’s why we need to practise, he says. According to him, the more times we try, the better we’ll get at staying detached.’

There was some truth in that; he knew from his own experience that he didn’t get carried away anywhere near as much these days as in Herebeth’s first mating flights. ‘And when does he want you to start doing this?’

‘He’s going to tell us which dragons to chase. He says it’s best not to do it too often, or it’ll look suspicious.’ S’fyn looked worried. ‘I’m not sure as I want to get involved in that. I mean, what if we hurt someone? Folath’s a big dragon. If he barges into a blue, it could be nasty.’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much. Folath won’t do anything you think is wrong.’

‘But what if I’m not thinking it’s wrong any more? Shells, D’gar. If he’s really trying to kill the Weyrleader and I don’t do anything to stop it, I’m almost as bad as he is.’

‘It could all be talk.’ D’gar tried to reassure him, even though he knew it probably wasn’t where F’drun was involved.

‘It’s not. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the expression on his face when he was telling us that story. He wants to be Weyrleader and he’ll do anything to make it happen.’

All right, all right.’ D’gar noticed that Folath was twitching his tail and looking restless; a clear sign of the distress his rider was feeling. ‘You’ve said yourself it’s not going to happen right away. He’s making plans for the future and getting people on his side who can help him. First things first. I think you should tell T’bor what you’ve just told me.’

S’fyn shook his head. ’I can’t. I mean, I trust T’bor, but I might not be able to persuade him that the threat’s serious. And then, what if he starts asking F’drun questions? He might figure out where it came from and drop a bag of firestone on my head.’

D’gar realised it wasn’t fair to expect a youngster like S’fyn to cope with all this alone. ‘Then hang in there. Find out more, if you can and once you’re back at Benden, I’ll come along with you and we can tell F’lar. Then you’ll be safely away from F’drun, but you’ll have done your duty.’

He nodded tersely. ‘That would be better.’

‘So, for the rest of the time you have left here, just be very careful. Play along with him and don’t draw any suspicion on yourself. It’s probably best we don’t meet again. But if it’s urgent, then get Folath to bespeak Herebeth.’

‘Don’t say anything to anyone, will you, until I’m back. If he gets to hear…’ There was real fear in his voice.

‘I won’t. I promise.’

They left, separately. S’fyn flew off first, while D’gar waited under the trees. _How much of that did you understand?_ he asked Herebeth.

_I understand that man is bad. But I knew that anyway. He tried to hurt you._

_It’s important you don’t mention this to any other dragons. If they tell their riders and it gets passed on then Folath’s rider could be hurt. So could Folath._

_I will say nothing._

He mounted up and visualised Benden in the evening light. Herebeth went _between_ just a few dragon lengths above the ground, in case anyone saw them.

The sun was low among the grey peaks of the Benden range. The soft light of glows illuminated many of the weyr openings as they descended into the Bowl. D’gar glanced toward the lake and saw that a fire was blazing merrily on the shore. There were silhouettes of people and dragons against the flames. Evidently the picnic was still going on.

_Drop me off there, please._

Herebeth landed neatly, far enough from the fire not to disturb it.

H’rek waved and beckoned him over. ‘Had anything to eat?’

‘Agarra fed me earlier. She thinks I’m on the verge of starving all the time. She even sent some emergency cake.’ He unwrapped it to show H’rek. ‘Go on, have a bit.’

H’rek dug in. ‘Bavi’s grilled some wherry and there’s a few meat rolls left too. Go and help yourself.’

‘Think I will.’ He strolled over. This was all so far removed from F’drun’s plotting, it made the whole interlude at Southern seem like an unpleasant dream.

People had brought rugs and bed furs out and lounged on the beach; the same beach where he’d waded into the water just a couple of months ago. Remembering that day reminded him yet again of F’drun. He had to be stopped. But he’d promised S’fyn not to say anything…

‘You look like you’re miles away,’ Bavi said. ‘Left your thoughts back at Fort?’

‘Oh, er, yes.’

‘Grab some food, then.’

‘This is great, Bavi. Good idea.’

‘Oh, we do this a few times every summer. You don’t need a weyr to have a party when the weather’s decent.’ She glanced over to the shore. A green dragon was partially submerged in the shallows. D’gar recognised Rioth. Several weyrbrats were holding on to her tail as she swished it through the water. They laughed and splashed around.

He helped himself to food, then rejoined H’rek. ‘Looks like you’ve had a better day than I did,’ he said, before taking a bite from a wherry leg.

‘Oh. Bad news?’

‘Some. Fort was fine.’ He stared up at the darkening sky, where the first stars were starting to show as night fell. ‘The rest not so much.’ The meat was perfectly cooked and succulent, but he barely tasted it.

‘Can you tell me anything about it? Your meeting?’

D’gar really wanted to but he remembered the fear in S’fyn’s expression. ‘I can’t. I promised. Just until he gets back…’ He stopped, realising he’d already given away too much. ‘I’m sorry H’rek.’

‘It’s all right. You know what you’re doing.’ H’rek took his free hand and squeezed it.

D’gar wished he had the same confidence in himself. He felt as if he’d got into a situation beyond his experience and dragged S’fyn into it too. ‘I hope so,’ he said quietly.

‘So, er, what did R’feem say?’

That was a safer topic. ‘He approved.’

‘That’s great. You’re going to accept, then?’

He threw the stripped bone into the fire, watching it flare briefly. ‘Probably.’ It didn’t seem so important now. His mind kept drifting back to S’fyn, hoping he’d be safe.

‘You don’t seem all that happy about it. I thought you’d decided you wanted the job.’

‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘I do want the job. I want us to be able to stay together. I just need to think through a few more things first.’

‘Don’t wait too long. F’lar might decide you aren’t keen enough.’ H’rek warned. ‘I still think you’d make a great Weyrlingmaster. Mind you, I’m biased.’

D’gar forced a smile. He tried to push his worries aside and enjoy the moment, like a dragon. Tomorrow was time enough to consider his options on both the job offer and the problem of Fdrun.

‘Bavi’s charges look like they’re starting to enjoy life at the Weyr.’ H’rek gestured over to their right. The two lads sat close together, arms around each other. ‘Young love. Sweet, isn’t it?’


	40. Half the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar makes a decision about his future

D’gar sat on his usual bench overlooking the feeding grounds, watching as Herebeth took down his second ovine of the morning. H’rek was off helping fill firestone sacks for the next Fall. He’d need to work out the shifts for that one later. His Wing was scheduled for clean-up duty, so he also had to decide which of his Wingseconds and riders would be working on that. It should be fairly easy; pasture rather than forest, so good visibility and no problems moving around to help the ground crews deal with any burrows.

There was another task he had to do as well. He needed to go and see F’lar and tell him his decision. There was no point in putting it off any longer. He’d thought about it enough; considered all the pros and cons until they chased each other’s tails around his mind. However, even such a far-reaching decision regarding his future paled against what he now knew about F’drun. He’d spent a lot of the night thinking about that, while H’rek slept peacefully beside him.

He’d already known F’drun was ambitious and had schemed to become a Wingleader at High Reaches. Now he was befriending young, impressionable bronze riders and making them do his dirty work in order to climb even higher. Doubtless he’d promise them the Wingleaders positions they were unlikely to get any other way as a reward, just as in the story he’d told. S’fyn’s information that they were to start practising their blocking tactics by disrupting green flights worried him. It wasn’t just that dragons could be hurt, although that wasn’t a pleasant thought. No, it also tied in to the threat F’drun had made the last time they met. He’d bet a good few marks that F’drun intended to interfere with Rioth’s next mating flight, which was very likely to happen while she was next on duty in the south. If Herebeth chased her, he would almost certainly end up getting a battering from a couple of hefty Benden bronzes. His dragon needed to be warned about that, nearer the time. And he should warn H’rek as well. But then H’rek would be even more concerned about the forthcoming flight than he already was. Even without any interference, it wasn’t certain Herebeth would catch Rioth again. He’d tried to prepare H’rek for that possibility, but he didn’t seem to want to listen.

Herebeth tore at the ovine’s flesh, his muzzle red with the animal’s blood. D’gar visualised it as F’drun and had a moment’s satisfaction from the thought. As he watched, a shadow passed overhead. He caught a glimpse of golden hide as Ramoth descended and Lessa slid down carefully. As her dragon flew off to feed she made her way over to join him.

‘Ramoth’s hungry again,’ she said, by way of greeting. ‘Although she’s full of eggs, so it’s not surprising.’

‘How are you getting on with…?’ He glanced toward her belly, which didn’t look much rounder yet. Mind you, Lessa was so tiny she’d probably not get very large until quite late in her pregnancy.

‘Still nauseous. I’m used to it by now.’ She sighed. ‘At least there’s something to look forward to at the end of it all.’

‘That’s true.’ He kicked at the dusty ground, not wanting to meet her eyes. Lessa had a way of looking at you that made you think she could see inside your head. He didn’t need that, right now.

‘So, have you made up your mind yet?’

Obviously, she would know about the offer. ‘More or less. I was going to go and see the Weyrleader later on, once Herebeth’s done here.’

Ramoth neatly broke the neck of a large herdbeast, then settled to eat. D’gar tried to think of something to talk about that wasn’t to do with the job offer or F’drun. It took a while, but at last he found it. ‘Those two lads from Bitra seem to be settling in.’

‘I’m glad.’ Lessa said. ‘It’s good to know folk can find refuge here. Who knows, they might be standing for Ramoth’s clutch in a couple of months.’

He’d not thought of that. ‘Are they old enough?’

‘Both fourteen Turns, I’m told. They look younger through malnutrition. Manora will soon put that right.’

‘We weren’t allowed to stand until we were fifteen,’ he commented.

‘Really? F’lar and F’nor were both younger than that when they Impressed. F’nor was only ten Turns.’

That was far too young, D’gar thought. But of course, it had been during an Interval, when there might be a long wait between clutches, especially with only one queen dragon at Benden. ‘Well, we couldn’t join a Wing until we were sixteen, so if you had very young lads Impressing, they’d have to be held back a long time. Waste of resources.’

‘Hmm.’ She seemed to think about that. ‘We Searched older lads for the last clutch, but that was because we needed them in a hurry. I can see your point, though. Ten is on the young side.’

‘Especially when their dragons mature so fast and start to mate. Not really fair on the boys, is it?’ He wondered if he should have mentioned that, but she was Weyrwoman, after all, not some delicate Holder lady.

Lessa watched her dragon feed for a while. ‘I was scared to death when Ramoth first rose,’ she said, quietly. ‘No-one had really told me anything, apart from not to let her gorge. It was… overwhelming.’

Of course. He’d heard the story of how the previous Weyrwoman had died before Lessa even Impressed. She’d had to adapt to Weyr life without much help. He didn’t imagine that R’gul had been a very sympathetic instructor.

‘A lot of youngsters don’t know much about it either,’ he said. ‘That’s the trouble with having Hold or Craftbred lads Impress. Especially if they end up with greens.’

‘Maybe if they had a good Weyrlingmaster they’d be better informed.’

He risked a quick glance and a smile. ‘I’d better go and talk to F’lar. Herebeth looks as if he’s eaten enough. He’ll want to go and sleep it off.’

‘I’ll join you in the council room as soon as Ramoth’s stuffed herself. He’s in there now, working on those charts again.’

D’gar made his way up the steps, feeling almost as nervous as he did before Fall. Lessa had been right. F’lar was concentrating hard on drawing straight lines across his chart with a rule. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.’ He finished carefully, blowing on the ink to dry it, then surveyed his handiwork. ‘If only there was a more efficient way to get things like this copied and sent around,’ he mused.

‘Is it nearly finished?’

‘As much as it can be, right now. I’ll have to fill in the rest of the southern continent as we explore it.’ He stretched, his joints popping. ‘Hurts my shoulders after a while.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Klah?’

‘I never say no to klah. My mother taught me that. Never pass up the chance for a mug of klah or a piss, she used to say.’

F’lar laughed. ‘Well, one increases the need for the other.’ He stood and went over to the service shaft. ‘Pot of klah and some mugs, please,’ he called, his voice echoing. ‘So, have you made up your mind?’

D’gar nodded. ‘I talked it over with H’rek, thought about it quite a lot. Then I asked R’feem what he thought as well.’

The service shaft rumbled as the order was delivered. ‘And…?’ F’lar asked.

‘You’ve got yourself a Weyrlingmaster. Well, as long as T’ron agrees to my transfer.’

He carried the tray over. ‘I wouldn’t think there’ll be a problem. After all, you’d not be going back to Fort for a while, even if you were just staying with the Wing.’

‘No. They sent us here because we weren’t needed anyway.’ D’gar wondered if F’lar knew about Fort’s current opinion of Benden. Probably not. T’ron and Mardra would put on smiling faces when they met the other Weyrleaders. He stirred some sweetener into his klah. ‘I spent a couple of months at Telgar back in the past, but that was just a secondment rather than a transfer. I grew up at Fort Weyr. It feels odd to be leaving it.’

‘I’m sure. I grew up in this Weyr and I’ve never lived anywhere else.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t have been able to until recently. “Empty, open, dusty, dead. Why have all the weyrfolk fled?”'

F’lar groaned. ‘If I hear that Question Song once more it’ll be one too many times.’ He took a sip of klah. ‘When did you hear it? It wasn’t even written until after you came forward.’

‘I’ve been trying to learn some of the newer Teaching Ballads. Don’t want to end up teaching youngsters out-of-date information.’

There were footsteps on the stairs and Lessa appeared. ‘I thought I could smell fresh klah.’

‘Would you believe our new Weyrlingmaster has been studying already.’

She poured for herself. ‘So, you decided to accept? I’m glad.’

‘I need to carry on leading the Wing until R’feem’s fit again.’ He thought he should make that clear.

‘Of course,’ F’lar said. ‘How long does he think it’ll be?’

‘Another few sevendays.’

Lessa nodded. ‘We can wait. Ramoth’s still a good month off laying her eggs. Once she’s done that, then we can see about finding enough candidates. Do you think some of the other Weyrs might send some over?’

‘Possibly. Although they’ll want to keep enough lads of the right age for their own clutches.’

‘Well, we can Search again if we have to.’

‘I think we should stick with the older boys,’ Lessa offered. ‘D’gar’s already given me some good reasons why. We’re in a Pass now and need them to be ready to start fighting Thread once the dragons are sufficiently mature.’

‘Sixteen was always the minimum age to join a Wing at Fort. Is it the same here?’ D’gar asked.

F’lar nodded. ‘Yes, we kept it at that even during the Interval. Although there were a few exceptions made if someone progressed quickly enough.’

‘I’d rather not do that, if it’s all right with you. It’s bad for Weyr morale to see too many young folk die.’ Those first few months in a Wing were the most dangerous. Young riders and dragons thought they were indestructible. All too often, they were proved wrong.

F’lar and Lessa glanced at each other. ‘I understand,’ the Weyrleader said. ‘That’s another reason we wanted you to take the job. We’ve seen the statistics in old records; you’ve lived through it.’

There was a slightly awkward pause, broken by Lessa. ‘You’ll probably want to take a look at the barracks,’ she said. ‘We had them tidied up before Ramoth laid her first clutch but they weren’t used for long before everyone got sent south. F’nor can show you around.’

‘Excellent.’

‘We’ll announce your appointment at dinner,’ F’lar said. ‘That should give you time to let your wing riders know what’s happening so it doesn’t come as a total surprise.’

‘Thank you. I’d like to try and make the transition as smooth as possible.’

‘We’ll contact T’ron and ask for your transfer to be approved. It shouldn’t take long before you can change the colour of those knots.’ F’lar gestured toward his shoulder. ‘That way, everyone will accept you as a Benden rider long before the Hatching.’

It would also mean he was bound by Benden rules. He wasn’t sure how they’d feel about him flying off to Southern Weyr every few days to see H’rek, or what would happen when Rioth rose to mate. ‘Um, one thing I wanted to ask about. I know H’rek’s going to be back down south shortly and Rioth’s probably going to rise while she’s there. Do I have permission to take time off when it happens? Threadfall permitting, naturally.’

‘Of course. He’s your weyrmate, after all.’ F’lar smiled. ‘Let’s hope your dragon catches her again.’

The well-meant remark reminded him of what was more likely to happen. Was there any way he could mention his concerns without implicating S’fyn?

Lessa must have caught the look on his face. ‘You seem worried.’

‘Isn’t everyone, before a mating flight.’ He tried to make light of it. ‘I mean, things can easily go wrong even without any interference.’

Lessa frowned. ‘Hmm. They almost did when Ramoth rose the first time.’ She caught F’lar’s eye again. ‘That was a close call.’

‘What happened?’ D’gar asked.

‘Someone tried to make sure Mnementh was out of the Weyr when it was time,’ she said.

‘Nearly succeeded, too,’ F’lar put in. ‘Things could have turned out very differently.’

Lessa turned to D’gar. ‘But surely no-one would want to do anything like that for a green flight? I don’t mean any disrespect, but it’s not as if there’s the leadership at stake.’ She held his gaze. ‘Do you foresee some kind of problem?’ she asked kindly.

All of a sudden, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell her. This was the Weyrwoman, after all. You couldn’t get any more trustworthy than that. It wouldn’t hurt just to give the bare details.

‘Lessa…’ F’lar said, a warning tone in his voice. ‘Don’t interfere.’

‘I’m not interfering,’ she said sweetly. ‘Just trying to help. Go on, D’gar. What were you about to say?’

‘Someone made a threat. He said he’d hurt H’rek.’ Just sharing his worry was a relief.

‘One of my riders threatened you?’ F’lar asked sharply.

‘No, not a Benden rider. But I know he’ll do what he says. He’s proved it before.’

Lessa narrowed her eyes. ‘Was it the one who tried to drown you? Kylara’s latest fling?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘F’drun. He knows he can’t touch me now I’m Wingleader. So he said he’d send his dragon up after Rioth. He put a green rider in the infirmary for two days after a mating flight back at High Reaches.’

F’lar grimaced. ‘They can get a bit rough sometimes.’

Lessa glared at him. ‘That sounds more than just “a bit rough” to me.’

‘We all know tempers can flare during the heat of a flight,’ D’gar explained. ‘But this was deliberate.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve not even told H’rek about it. Didn’t want to worry him.’

‘So you’ve been worrying yourself instead.’ Lessa shook her head. ‘That’s not good for you.’

D’gar couldn’t stop now. ‘H’rek’s scared of mating flights. Even when I’ve tried to warn him Herebeth might not always catch Rioth I can see it bothers him. If he knew there was someone intending to hurt him, I don’t know what might happen. He told me he nearly lost Rioth the first time she rose.’

‘What you said earlier about Holdbred lads wasn’t just a generalisation, then?’ Lessa said gently.

‘No. I…’ He couldn’t believe he’d just given away so much. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said all that. H’rek would be annoyed if he found out.’

F’lar gave him a wry smile. ‘Once Lessa gets going on you, you don’t stand a chance. So, what can we do about this?’

‘Not sure as you can, really. It’s just a green flight.’

‘I don’t want one of my riders getting injured if it’s avoidable. Mind you, even if F’drun’s dragon chases Rioth, that’s not to say he’ll catch her. She’s Benden bred, after all.’

In any other circumstances he’d agree. But knowing what he did, the chances of a fair flight were slim. It was best to say nothing, or it might raise more questions.

‘Did he get much warning last time she rose?’ F’lar prompted.

Stick to facts, he told himself. ‘Not really. You know how it is with young dragons. Bit of sunshine and they’re away. But we worked out her cycle and reckon it should happen about the second week they’re in the south.’

‘There might be a way round this,’ F’lar mused. ‘You’ll need to get everything ready here for the new candidates and lead your Wing in Threadfall too. You could probably use some help.’

‘Probably,’ D’gar agreed. There would be a lot to do in a fairly short time. His inexperience in the job would mean it took far longer, too.

‘Then what if H’rek stays here, at least until his dragon’s risen again? He can act as your assistant for the time being. They’ll not miss one rider at Southern. Most of the heavy work’s complete now.’

It was a good way to get around the immediate problem of F’drun setting Ryth after Rioth. ‘That would work.’

‘I’m still concerned about this F’drun,’ Lessa said, shaking her head. ‘First there was that incident at the lake, then he let his dragon chase Prideth when he knew it was a closed flight. Very irresponsible, both times. Do we really want someone like that in our Weyr?’

‘He’s not in our Weyr,’ F’lar pointed out. ‘He’s T’bor’s problem now. And he’s keeping Kylara quiet.’

Lessa gave him a dirty look. ‘Is that really fair? On T’bor or anyone else. Maybe we should see about getting him sent back to High Reaches.’

‘If you remember, we discussed that possibility,’ F’lar said. ‘Before his dragon was injured.’

D’gar thought it sounded like an excellent idea, although he didn’t think T’kul would be persuaded so easily. But then T’kul had probably never had to deal with someone like Lessa before.

‘Well then, after the next Fall, maybe we’ll take a trip over to High Reaches. I’d like to get to see some of the other Weyrs before Ramoth’s too egg-heavy to fly and I get too big to ride.’

D’gar doubted she would and even if she did, they’d probably not reveal too much to the Benden Weyrwoman. No one wanted their dirty laundry hung out in front of strangers.

Lessa turned to him again. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing else we should know?’ she asked, giving him a shrewd look.

‘No. Nothing really.’ He knew she was trying to coax him to say more, but it wasn’t worth the risk to S’fyn. And even if he told them what the other riders had said about F’drun’s past misdemeanors they could all be brushed aside as Weyr gossip. It was even possible that S’fyn’s information might be regarded as nothing to be concerned about, although he hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

‘Well, thanks for coming along, D’gar,’ F’lar said. ‘And we’ll talk again soon about the details of the job. Don’t forget to ask F’nor to show you where everything is in the barracks.’

‘I will. Thanks again for giving me this opportunity. I’ll do my best.’

He left the weyr, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and apprehension. It was a little bit like he’d felt on the day N’teren told his weyrling class they were about the learn how to fly _between_. Just as on that day, he knew the theory but had no practical experience to draw on. Still, the previous Weyrlingmaster would have left records. He could take a look at those over the next sevenday for a start.

_H’rek is looking for you._ Herebeth’s comment pulled him from his musing. _Rioth is feeding. He is with her._

_Thanks. I’ll take a walk over._

_I can fly you if you want. I might be able to manage a small wherry._

_Greedy-guts. Well then, if it won’t give you indigestion, it’ll save my boot leather._

His dragon glided down from the fire heights, his brown hide looking a little ashy.

_I’ll have to keep you cleaner when we’re in charge of the weyrlings. Can’t have them seeing me with a grubby dragon._

_I will set them an excellent example,_ Herebeth said. _I shall go for a dip in the lake every day. Maybe some of them can help scrub me._

_If you’re very lucky. But I think they’ll be kept busy enough scrubbing their own dragons._ He climbed aboard, remembering the days when Herebeth seemed to grow almost overnight and his life consisted of feeding, bathing and oiling an ever expanding baby dragon. Soon, other lads would be doing the same and he would be in charge of them. It would be him they ran to when they panicked over every little thing. He’d be the one breaking up fights and assigning midden duty. They’d expect him to know everything. And he didn’t. Another wave of almost-panic went through his head. What was he letting himself in for?

H’rek was sitting watching Rioth hunt her prey as Herebeth dropped him off before ascending in a lazy fashion to join her. ‘Well?’ he asked.

‘I’ve done it. I’ve told them I’m accepting the job.’

H’rek gave a whoop and threw his arms around D’gar. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘You’re the first to know, so keep it quiet until later. I’m going to tell the Wing before dinner, then F’lar will make it official.’

‘You’re going to be great at it.’

‘I hope so. Come on, sit down. I’ve some other news for you as well.’

H’rek looked at him expectantly.

‘You’re staying here with me for a while, to help get things ready for the candidates. That means you’ll be here at Benden when Rioth rises.’

H’rek embraced him again, then started to kiss him. It carried on for a while.

‘Steady on,’ D’gar said, at last. ‘You know what I’ve said before.’

‘That Herebeth might not catch her. I know. But at least if we’re both here there’s no chance you’ll miss it.’

And there’s no chance anyone will deliberately make us lose, he thought to himself.

‘Look at the pair of them.’ H’rek pointed to where Herebeth and Rioth were sharing a wherry. ‘I think our dragons are as much in love as we are. Like Ramoth and Mnementh.’

D’gar smiled, not wanting to dash his romantic dreams. Weyrbred folk understood that wasn’t necessarily how it worked out. If they had to Search a lot of candidates from Holds and Crafts, he needed to make sure all of those aspects were covered when they learned about mating flights. Shells, but that was going to be a difficult lecture.

‘You’re thinking again,’ H’rek chided.

‘I know. It’s going to be a busy few sevendays. There’s so much to get done and Thread won’t stop falling to give us any extra time.’

‘Well,’ H’rek said, looking once more toward the dragons. ‘Once those two have finished why don’t we take an afternoon to ourselves, in our weyr.’

‘Hmm,’ D’gar pretended to be considering the offer. ‘Is that entirely responsible?’

‘Probably not. But let’s enjoy it anyway.’

It was later - much later - when he woke up, still entwined with H’rek. He could tell by the shadows under the curtain that it was late afternoon. H’rek still slept, looking even younger than when he was awake, a slight smile on his face. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, D’gar reached down to the side of the bed and picked up his still half-full cup of wine. He took a sip of the excellent Benden white. It had been a perfect afternoon, he reflected. ‘May we have many more,’ he said quietly, drinking to his own toast.

_Canth asked me to ask you when you would like his rider to show you round the barracks,_ Herebeth said. _You would not have wanted to be disturbed when he asked so I told him you were busy._

_Thank you. I think we’d better leave it for another day. I still need to speak to the Wing. Could you ask Ondiath and Bitath to rustle them all up and tell them I’d like to meet them in the dining hall in around an hour._ That should give them plenty of time to clean up. He still needed to sort out the details for tomorrow’s Fall; something he had intended to do earlier.

H’rek opened his eyes slowly and yawned. ‘Is it dinner yet?’

‘Not quite. But I think we should both get in the bath before then. And I really need to do some planning. I don’t think there’ll be any time later, once they find out the news.’

‘Are you going to get drunk?’

‘Not with Fall tomorrow. I need a clear head rather than a hangover. I might have to stop some of the riders from using it as an excuse to celebrate.’

‘What, celebrating getting rid of you?’

D’gar pretended to cuff him. ‘Cheeky brat.’

He let Rioth ferry them both down as Herebeth still felt too full to move. Most of the riders were already at their usual table. He felt a pang of regret, realising that it wouldn’t be his table for much longer. He’d be sitting with the weyrlings in the future.

A few of them looked puzzled, obviously wondering why he’d called a meeting now when Fall wasn’t due until early afternoon the following day.

‘What’s this about?’ M’rell called out.

‘I’m about to tell you if you give me a chance.’ He took his usual seat.

H’rek went over to the hearth to pour klah, not wanting it to seem as if he was listening in.

D’gar looked around the table, at all the familiar faces. His Wing, even though it was only temporary. ‘I’ve got some news that I wanted to share,’ he said. ‘I wanted you to hear it first, from me. I’ve been asked to stay here at Benden, to become their Weyrlingmaster and I’ve accepted.’

J’rud was the first to react, pounding the table. ‘Well done.’

‘You’ll be able to show ‘em how it’s done,’ G’reden called out.

M’rell stood up and did his impassion of N’teren at his most pompous. ‘Remember, lads, theory’s all very well but what you really need is…’

‘Practical experience!’ Most of the younger riders from Fort joined in as he spoke the last two words. They’d heard the phrase all too often during their training.

There were a few cheers and the table received a bit more punishment. Once they’d settled down slightly, B’lin shook his hand more formally. ‘Congratulations, Wingleader.’

V’vil stood and did the same. ‘I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job.’

‘Thank you. All of you. It’s a big move for me…’ he paused again as there were a few more chuckles at his choice of words - that had been the Fort nickname for the journey forward - before continuing. ‘I’ll still be leading this Wing until R’feem returns to active duty, so don’t think you’ll be rid of me so easily. That was all I wanted to say, really. The Weyrleader’s going to be announcing it to the rest of the Weyr over dinner.’

‘We’ll make sure to cheer extra loud,’ T’rai said. A few others nodded or mumbled assent.

‘Until then, meeting’s over.’ He stood and went over to join H’rek, who handed him a cup of klah.

‘They took that pretty well.’

‘Hopefully, there’ll be the same reaction from the Benden folk.’ He sipped his klah. ‘And even if there isn’t there’s nothing they can do about it.’

‘I can’t wait to see R’gul’s face,’ H’rek smiled. ‘Lessa loves it when he’s annoyed about something. Just you watch her expression and you’ll see what I mean.’


	41. The Full Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessa returns from High Reaches with some more questions for D'gar.

‘So, here we are.’ F’nor swung open the heavy double doors to the weyrling barracks.

‘It’s huge,’ H’rek’s voice was filled with awe. It echoed in the vast, empty space.

D’gar looked around. The barracks were laid out in a very similar way to those at Fort Weyr. A wide central aisle separated the two rows of dragon couches and narrow beds for the boys. High windows all along the right hand side let in plenty of light and air. ‘How many can it hold?’ he asked.

F’nor shrugged. ‘You’ll have to count. I’ve never seen the place more than a quarter full.’

‘That’s your first job, then,’ he said to H’rek, handing him a wax tablet and scribing tool. ‘And check out those mattresses piled up at the far end to see if they’re usable.’

F’nor went over to one of the beds. ‘This was mine, when I Impressed Canth. F’lar was next to me, this side.’

‘How many were in your clutch?’

‘Just twenty-four.’ He grimaced. ‘That was the largest clutch Nemorth ever laid. And the the last time Simanith flew her…’

He looked sad, D’gar thought. ‘I heard you were only ten Turns old.’

F’nor nodded. ‘That’s right. My father thought we should both stand to give us the best chance of Impressing. Nemorth didn’t rise very often.’

‘That’s how it is, during an Interval.’ He’d read accounts in the archives. Still, with a Pass on the horizon, you’d have thought her cycle would have become more frequent. D’gar still found it hard to comprehend how there’d only been one queen dragon at Benden. If anything had happened to her, or her rider…

‘Nemorth rose less often than most,’ F’nor said. ‘She barely flew at all. And after F’lon was killed, Jora never really recovered.’ He fell silent. ‘Still, at least he got to see us both Impress.’

‘Your father died?’

‘Yes. Murdered by that bastard Fax’s men. Everything went bad after that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He’d not realised F’nor’s past held such tragedy. ‘You’ll have to tell me about it someday, if you want.’

‘It’s a long time ago,’ he said. ‘We got through it.’

‘One hundred and twenty-five,’ H’rek called from the far end, disturbing the reverie. ‘And most of these mattresses are only fit to burn.’

‘Thanks,’ he called back.

‘Right, then.’ F’nor stood. ‘I’ll show you the rest of it. The necessaries are just down here and the bathing chambers.’

They explored the barracks, finding out where everything was kept, H’rek adding to the ever-expanding list of what was needed to make the place fit for habitation and training again.

‘You say Ramoth laid forty-one eggs the first time? Let’s get fifty spaces ready, just to cover all eventualities for this clutch.' D’gar trailed his finger along the lecture table, leaving a line in the dust. ‘The rest we can make ready before she rises again.’ He looked around the empty space, visualising it noisy with young dragons and lads, remembering his own days as a weyrling at Fort.

‘Will we ever see it full?’ F’nor asked.

‘I expect so. Once you’ve a few more queens, there’ll be two or three clutches every Turn. As one lot graduate to the Wings, more will be coming in to replace them.’

‘Sounds like you’ll have your work cut out,’ F’nor said. ‘When we were in here, the clutch before us had long since moved out to their own weyrs.’

D’gar smiled. ‘It’s going to be busy.’

They left the main cavern. ‘The Weyrlingmaster’s quarters are just through here,’ F’nor said. ‘C’gan was the last one to use them. Even when there were no weyrlings, it was easier for him to stay down here. He was getting on in Turns and his joints were stiff.’

D’gar nodded.

F’nor continued. ‘I was thinking you’d probably like to keep your own weyr for when there’s no one in the barracks, but if it’s going to be a continuous process as you say, then I suppose you’ll be moving in here permanently.’

‘I’ll need to, to keep an eye on them all.’ He fingered the knocker mounted on the wall just outside the heavy curtain that led to the main room. It was furnished simply, with large desk, table and several shelves. Doorways off led to the bedchamber and the necessary.

‘No pool,’ H’rek said, disappointed.

‘You’ve been spoiled. Still there’s room enough for Herebeth and Rioth. And at least it’s ground level, so we don’t have to wait for the dragons to ferry us to and fro. You always said you liked that about Southern.’

‘True.’ H’rek walked around, sniffing the air. ‘It smells damp.’

‘We can pull the curtain back and air it out. I expect the ventilation’s been cut off while no-one was using it. Maybe you could get maintenance to take a look?’

H’rek made a note of that as well. ‘Who should I ask about that?’ he said to F’nor.

D’gar reminded himself again that H’rek hadn’t really been at Benden much longer than he had.

‘Manora’s the best person,’ F’nor offered. ‘She’ll be able to point you to any other heads of department you’ll need to talk to as well.’

‘You’re going to be finding out a lot about the way a Weyr works in the next few sevendays,’ It would be a good learning experience for H’rek, he realised, then smiled to himself. He was thinking like a Weyrlngmaster already.

‘Sounds like it,’ H’rek replied. ‘You know, I’ve never really thought about all the different departments you need to run a place like this.’

‘There are usually more support staff than dragonriders at the Weyr,’ F’nor told him. ‘I grew up with most of them. We were all supposed to study another specialty, although that didn’t generally start until you were twelve Turns and I had Canth by then.’

‘I’m definitely going to include that on my training programme. Lads coming in from Holds and Crafts probably don’t even consider all the other jobs necessary to keep the Weyr running. They can still stay on and do useful work even if they don’t Impress.’ D’gar was thinking about the two lads T’rai had rescued. They didn’t have anywhere else to go, after all. ‘Well, thanks for your time, F’nor. Do you know where all the training records are kept? I’d like to have a look at those today.’

‘They’ll be in the main archives, I expect.’

‘I’ll find them. H’rek, if you can work your way through as much of that list as you can this afternoon, I’ll start on the records.’ Although there seemed to be plenty of time, he knew how quickly it would fly. With Fall every two to three days, he had to prioritise his duties as Wingleader, at least until R’feem returned. They’d have to begin Searching soon, too. Although he couldn’t predict exactly how many eggs Ramoth was going to lay, it was as well to over estimate the numbers. Prideth would be clutching at almost the same time and sufficient candidates would have to be sent down to Southern, too. They’d need their own Weyrlingmaster in place, now that it was set to be a permanent Weyr, but for the time being, everything was linked with Benden.

The Benden archives were well organised so it didn’t take too long to find the right section. He brought down an armful of tightly rolled hides and took them over to the table, musing as he did so. Weyrbrats would have absorbed much of what they needed to know just from growing up surrounded by dragons, but as the majority of candidates at Benden wouldn’t have set foot in a Weyr before, there was so much else that should be taught. Yes, the traditional Teaching Ballads covered all aspects of what a dragonrider should learn, but most of them, from his experience, assumed a basic level of knowledge about Weyr life that these lads just wouldn’t have. It was a good job, he reflected, that he’d got to know H’rek. Many of the questions he asked, or the things he hadn’t been told, because it had been assumed he just knew, were going to become a part of the new curriculum. He could even utilise the experience of the Weyrbred candidates to help the others find out more about their new home.

As he unrolled the first hides, his mind began brimming with ideas. He wrote everything down as he worked, using a well scraped piece of hide for his rough notes. The first few months would be the ideal time to cover theory, when the new riders weren’t feeding, bathing or oiling their fast-growing dragons. He remembered the ground training N’teren had made them do, well before the dragons flew for the first time, learning all the hand signals and Wing formations. There’d been plenty of games to improve hand to eye co-ordination, which had helped to get the lads fit as well as getting them to work as part of a team. He and S’brin had done a lot more physical exercise than the training program had required and it had made their job of filling and hefting firestone sacks much easier. He’d be sure to include that too.

The hide gradually filled up. He took a couple of breaks for a quick cup of klah and to stretch his legs. It had been a few Turns since he’d last helped Ballaran, the Fort Weyr Harper, in the archives. There didn’t seem to be a Harper stationed at Benden, although he remembered someone saying that C’gan had fulfilled that role, as well as Weyrlingmaster. They were probably still waiting for a replacement to be sent from the Harper Hall, but it was another question that needed to be asked.

His stomach was telling him it must almost be dinner time when he heard footsteps. He expected to see H’rek and was surprised when Lessa came in, wearing her riding leathers. She slapped her wherhide gloves down on the table rather forcefully. Unease prickled the hairs on the back of his neck as she strode the length of the table. Clearly, something had annoyed her.

He stood, acknowledging her arrival. ‘Weyrwoman.’

‘You don’t need to bother with formalities when we’re alone.’ There was an edge to her voice as she continued. ’We’ve just returned from High Reaches.’

‘Oh?’ He hadn’t thought they’d actually bother to go. Maybe he’d under estimated Lessa.

‘Pilgra was very helpful.’ She stopped next to his shoulder. ‘She said she'd already given you a lot of information regarding F’drun.’

‘Er, yes?’ Pilgra must have told Lessa the same as she’d told him.

‘So why didn’t you say anything the other day?’ Lessa snapped.

Lots of reasons, he thought. ‘Well, it was just talk…’ he began.

‘From a reliable source,’ she said, cutting him off. Although her voice remained level, it was clear she wasn’t pleased by his omission. ‘Several reliable sources, as we’ve discovered today.’

That was true. He’d told R’feem the same when he’d reported his findings. But he’d rather not bring R’feem into this. And he still needed to keep his promise to S’fyn. ‘I’ve no excuse,’ he said quietly. ‘But if you were going there anyway I reckoned you’d find out for yourself.’ How much of the story had she found out, he wondered? ‘I didn’t want to spread unfounded gossip.’

‘Gossip or truth?’ she asked. ‘Because what Pilgra told F’lar and myself was undoubtedly true. And you already knew all of this. You could have told us, when I gave you the opportunity.’

He tried not to squirm under her gaze. She was right, of course. But he couldn’t tell her why.

Her voice lashed at him like a whip. ‘I have to admit, I thought of F’drun as merely irresponsible before. It’s more serious than that now. And what I can’t work out is why you’d try to hide what he’d done.’

D’gar tried to explain, without giving too much away. ‘I didn’t want to say any more about F’drun back then, because…’ he paused to try and work out how best to say it. ‘I was worried about putting anyone at risk.’

Lessa threw that right back at him. ’From what I’ve been told there are at least two deaths laid at his feet already! Did you know about those?’

‘Some of them.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘Then I don’t understand why you thought it necessary to protect him.’

‘I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting…’ he stopped himself, realising he couldn’t go any further without giving away too much. ‘I just can’t,’ he said.

Lessa paced the length of the table. ‘Is it because you both came forward from the past? I know you people have your own way of doing things. But does that extend to protecting someone who doesn’t deserve it? I thought you were serious when you said you wanted to join us at Benden Weyr, but maybe I was wrong.’

D’gar didn’t dare to say anything. He knew how she’d interpret his silence, but he had no choice.

‘The man’s a liability. I said as much to T’kul.’ She turned at the end of the table. ‘Fat lot he was interested. “He’s your problem now,” he told us. I had to remind him that all of you are only seconded, not transferred and that we’ll be the ones to decide when to send you back.’

D’gar’s heart sank. Did that apply to him as well? ‘Does that mean… do you not want me here now?’ He wouldn’t blame them, given what he’d deliberately concealed.

‘Tell me something.’ She leaned over and fixed him with that steely gaze of hers. ‘Do you trust us - myself and the Weyrleader - to act in the best interests of everyone in this Weyr?’

‘Well, yes…’

‘That you, or anyone else can rely on our protection?’

He nodded.

‘Then why didn’t you tell us we were harbouring a tunnel snake under our noses?’

‘I didn’t think you’d take it seriously,’ he said, honestly. That had been his previous experience, after all. ‘And if F’drun got to know in the mean time, I’d be responsible for someone getting injured, maybe even killed. We were going to tell you everything, as soon as he got back.’

She pounced on that. ‘He?’

‘One of the Southern riders,’ he admitted. ‘He’s found out some information about F’drun that’s… well, quite serious. If it had been a matter of urgency, I’d have said something right away, but we had good reason to believe nothing’s going to happen for a while.’

Lessa stared at him for a couple of seconds before speaking. ’I think we need to sit and discuss this, right now. You, me and the Weyrleader, together.’

‘I understand.’ She thought the worst of him. Still, at least S’fyn would stay safe.

‘Come on, then. Put those hides away.’ She glanced down at his scribbled notes. ‘It looks as if you’ve been putting in quite a lot of work here.’

‘Yes.’ He paused. Had all of it been for nothing, he wondered? ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.’

Her expression mellowed slightly. ‘You were fortunate Ramoth took her time landing. When we left High Reaches I was furious.’

He rolled up the hide he’d been reading and carefully returned everything to its proper place, conscious she was watching his every move. He wanted to crawl away and hide, but knew that wasn’t an option.

She led the way into her weyr. Ramoth gazed solemnly at him as he passed, as if she too was judging his actions. Lessa gestured for him to sit, just as F’lar came through from another room. Thankfully, he didn’t seem quite as angry as Lessa had been, but D’gar still felt uncomfortable. He’d let them down, betrayed their trust. They had every right to find him wanting.

‘Well,’ F’lar said. ‘The mood Lessa was in when we landed I’m surprised to see you’re still in one piece.’ He sat in another of of the chairs.

‘I apologise, Weyrleader. I had my reasons.’

‘Which, hopefully, we’ll find out. So, tell us what you know. From the beginning. Then we can see if our information matches up.’

D’gar took a deep breath. ‘You already know what’s happened here at Benden, so there’s no need to go over that again. But it was because of what F’drun did to me and a couple of instances the other riders had mentioned that I wanted to find out more.’

‘What did they tell you?’ Lessa asked.

‘About his former Wingleader’s death. The flamethrower incident?’

F’lar nodded. ‘Yes, we heard about that too. It’s in their records.’

‘Entered as an accident,’ D’gar said. ‘Although several folk implied that wasn’t the case. They said F’drun sabotaged it.’

‘Pilgra confirmed that. It’s common knowledge at High Reaches and one of the reasons T’kul sent F’drun here.’ Lessa shook her head. ‘He’s not the friendliest of characters either, is he?’

‘I’ve not met him.’ Folk like me don’t get to talk to Weyrleaders very often, he thought. Not unless we’re in a lot of trouble. Like now, for example.

‘So, F’drun was promoted to be Wingleader via a convenient accident,’ Lessa went on. ‘I asked T’kul why he’d done that, too. He said that once we’d been fighting Thread for a few Turns we’d understand.’

‘Sometimes it’s more to do with who’s available than whether they’re a perfect fit for the job,’ D’gar explained. ‘F’drun was experienced and he’d been Wingsecond. Most Weyrleaders would consider that to be sufficient qualification.’

‘True,’ F’lar said. ‘I could see his thinking there. Although I don’t think I’d care to promote someone suspected of having plotted their Wingleader’s death.’

‘It wasn’t proved,’ D’gar said. ‘And in any case, the other Wingsecond was V’vil and his dragon had come too close to catching Merika’s Elyth. T’kul’s not fond of him.’

Lessa raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, that’s as may be. So, what did you discover about F’drun’s time as Wingleader?’

‘He was a bully. He’d choose people to pick on. I wasn’t the first by a long way. One rider ended up drinking himself to death because of it.’

‘Pilgra showed us the Wing’s disciplinary records. Did you see those as well?’

‘I don’t think so. The records were in rather a mess when I was there.’ He was interested as to what she’d seen. ‘Although I know he liked dunking folk in the Weyr lake.’

‘Yes, he had some fairly extreme ways of punishing people,’ F’lar agreed. ‘Surprised the Weyrleader allowed it, really. I’ve always found a few sevendays on watch duty or revoking privileges is all that’s needed.’

‘It was the same at Fort,’ D’gar said, hoping they wouldn’t take High Reaches as an example of the way all the other Weyrs operated. ‘When I was a weyrling, midden duty was a favourite, too.’

‘Anyway,’ Lessa interrupted. ‘It probably won’t surprise you to know that some riders were badly hurt in the process.’

It didn’t. ‘Did you hear about the ground crew disaster as well?’ he asked. That had been the worst incident by far.

‘We were only told he was demoted through negligence. Although based on all the evidence, it should have happened well before it did. Do we need to know the details?’

‘It’s not essential. Three more deaths, though.’ He sensed the disapproval in their gaze. ‘I suppose I might as well tell you the rest. You won’t have discovered it at High Reaches, because it didn’t happen there. It’s happening right now.’

F’lar looked puzzled.

‘D’gar mentioned it to me, earlier,’ Lessa said. ‘That’s why I brought him in here.’

Once he revealed what he’d discovered, then hopefully they would act fairly quickly. But he still didn’t want to take any chances with S’fyn’s life. ‘I’ll tell you on one condition. There’s a rider in Southern who gave me this information and he’s afraid that if F’drun finds out he’s the one, he might… well, get hurt. Or worse. He needs to be brought back here right away, for his own safety.’

‘Or we remove F’drun from Southern?’ Lessa suggested.

‘If that can be done. Although, you should know he’s been encouraging some of the younger riders to act in a similar way. I don’t think they’re necessarily bad, just misguided.’

‘Which riders?’ F’lar asked.

‘Some of H’rek’s clutchmates. Bronzes.’

F’lar raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d have hoped they’d have more sense than that.’

‘They’re young,’ D’gar said. ‘And easily influenced.’

‘Well, we can deal with them later. And make sure this other rider is all right. How did he get into all this in the first place?’

‘He volunteered.’ D’gar knew he had to tell them the whole story, even if it made him seem still more careless. How could they ever trust him enough to put him in charge of weyrlings now? They’d probably send him back to Fort once they knew how he’d let S’fyn put himself in danger. ‘After we’d been doing some training, he mentioned he’d like to help. He’d realised that F’drun was befriending bronze riders.’

‘He’s a bronze too?’

D’gar nodded. ‘He knew he’d be able to get close to F’drun and win his trust. He’s a decent lad and didn’t like the way some of the others were behaving. I know that I was irresponsible to encourage him, but it seemed like a good way to find out what F’drun was up to. I knew he was up to something, you see, but without proof, it’s hard to get anyone to take it seriously.’

‘I can assure you that I’m taking it very seriously.’ F’lar leaned forward. ‘So, what did he discover?’

D’gar quickly gave him the background; the story F’drun had told them about the High Reaches Weyrleader, the questions he’d asked to find out if they were discontent with the Southern leadership and finally, his plan to get them to interfere with mating flights as practice for the ultimate goal. ‘That’s why I was so worried about H’rek. I was pretty certain that would be one of the first flights he’d go for, because of what he’d said to me.’

Lessa frowned. ‘Do you reckon Kylara knows any of this?’ she asked F’lar.

‘For her sake, let's hope not,’ he said. ‘So, to re-cap, F’drun gets these youngsters to block other dragons during Prideth’s next mating flight in order for him to become Weyrleader?’

‘That’s right. And if he follows the same plan as he told them about, makes sure T’bor and Orth are in no position to take part in the first place. Ryth’s never won a gold flight. He doesn’t have the stamina or speed. F’drun can only get what he wants the dirty way.’ That was it. They knew everything now. He bowed his head, feeling almost as wrung out as if he’d ridden a four hour Fall. ‘Make sure S’fyn’s out of his way,’ he pleaded. If anything happened to the lad, he’d never forgive himself.

He heard Lessa get up and walk across the room. She called for klah down the service shaft.

D’gar felt strangely numb. All there was left to do now was to pack his few belongings and leave the Weyr. He could imagine his reception back at Fort; even though they didn’t much like the Benden way of doing things, he’d be in disgrace for sullying Fort’s good name. He might end up on midden duty for the rest of his life, or be demoted to shovelling firestone. And he’d never be able to see H’rek again.

There was a rumble as the order was delivered. Lessa carried it back and set it down on the table. ‘Klah?’ she asked.

He didn’t reply, assuming she was speaking to F’lar.

‘D’gar?’ she asked sharply. ‘Do you want a cup of this nice, fresh klah?’

‘Oh, er, yes. Thank you.’ It made it worse that she was being kind. ‘Um, when do you want me to leave?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure V’vil will manage to lead the Wing for the next Fall.’

Lessa poured the klah. ‘Why would we ask you to leave?’

‘Because I didn’t tell you the truth. I’ve endangered lives and acted irresponsibly. It’s what I deserve.’ Except he couldn’t see how he could have acted any differently, given the circumstances. How could he have known they’d take the threat as seriously as he had?

‘If anything, we’re partly to blame,’ Lessa said, in a kindly way. ‘We should have investigated more thoroughly as soon as F’drun acted as he did with you.’

‘There was a lot going on,’ D’gar said. ‘It wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.’

‘Still, if he’d been sent back then, things would never have gone so far.’

D’gar had been told High Reaches wouldn’t take F’drun back. But he’d not heard that from any official sources. There’d been a lot of assumption on his part, he now realised. ‘I thought you weren’t interested,’ he said. Being honest wasn’t going to make things any worse right now. ‘All of us riders from the other Weyrs were sent to Benden, but we never felt like we belonged. We didn’t feel as if we could bring problems to you. Or even that we should. That’s why I figured the only way was to deal with it myself. I knew F’drun was dangerous, even before I found the proof at High Reaches. When he started spending time with Kylara, I was convinced he was up to something. It was just a question of finding out what.’

‘Which you managed very well,’ F’lar said. ‘You may not have acted in a completely orthodox way…’

‘Well, no.’

‘But then if I’d been sent to an unfamiliar Weyr and didn’t know who I could turn to, I might have done the same. We’re not exactly strangers to doing things differently here at Benden.’ F’lar took sip of his klah. ‘You’ve helped a lot of folk since you came here. F’nor mentioned you’d told him how one of our injured riders was being bullied by F’drun.’

D’gar nodded. ‘You mean C’vash? He didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.’

‘And it should have been noticed and dealt with. But as you said, these have been extraordinary times. We’ve all made some mistakes. I’m not going to hold them against you. But you are going to help us put it all right.’

D’gar looked up, a faint hope stirring. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘We’ll be taking a trip to Southern first thing tomorrow. Myself, Lessa, you and F’nor. I’m going to have him question those youngsters about what’s been going on. Meanwhile your S’fyn can tell us what he’s found out. T’bor needs to know as well. We’ll sort this out once and for all.’

D’gar felt an immense sense of relief. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Now drink your klah before it gets cold.’ Lessa handed him the cup. ‘Meet us here after breakfast in the morning. F’drun’s not going to know what’s hit him.’


	42. At Southern Weyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Benden Weyrleaders fly to Southern to confront F'drun

‘You’re nervous this morning and it’s not even Fall.’ H’rek pulled on his shirt. ‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, er. All the preparation I’m having to make for this new job.’ Which he wasn’t sure was still his, given the revelations of the previous day. He’d not asked directly, of course, but he wouldn’t blame the Benden leaders for reconsidering. He’d probably think twice before giving such a responsible position to someone like himself.

F’lar and Lessa had cautioned him not to mention their trip south to anyone, so he hadn’t even told H’rek. At least he could try to win back their trust in him by complying. At least they hadn’t just sent him packing right away.

‘What’s the plan for today?’

‘Um, I need to do some more research in the archives. What about you?’

‘We’re shovelling firestone this morning. Free later, if you fancy flying. Maybe we could get away from the Weyr for a while?’

‘If I can.’ He might still be in Southern, depending how long this whole thing took.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Yes. Honestly. Don’t worry about me.’ At least he’d still be able to stay with H’rek, even if he was back to just being Wingsecond again. What would R’feem think about all this, he wondered? What would be said about him at Fort this time? It had been bad enough after he and S’brin had helped Valli to end her life, as she wished, flying Kadoth _between_ for the last time.

He led the Wing through their usual morning exercises. He forced himself to work harder than he’d done for a long time, focussing only on the here and now while the session lasted.

‘Bet you’ll be doing all this with those poor weyrlings,’ M’rell said cheerfully as they finally had a breather. ‘They’ll love you as much as we did N’teren.'

He gave a small smile. No need to let on to any of them yet that the job might not be his after all. The only good thing about this whole mess was that F’drun was, at last, going to be held to account for all that he’d done and for what he’d been planning to do.

After breakfast, he went back to the weyr. H’rek had already left, so he was on his own as he started to get ready.

_What is wrong?_ Herebeth asked. His dragon could sense the turmoil in his mind. _Why are you unhappy?_

_I’ve made a lot of mistakes and people are unhappy with me because of them._

_I am not unhappy with you._

Herebeth’s unconditional love washed over him. No matter what he did, his dragon would always stand up for him and support him in anything he decided to do, right or wrong. He assumed Ryth would do the same for F’drun.

_I know,_ he told Herebeth. _You will always be my dragon._

_And you will always be my rider._

He took Herebeth’s straps down from their peg and started to put them on.

_Where are we going?_

_Back to Southern Weyr. With the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. So behave yourself._

_Will I be able to swim?_

_Maybe._ There would be a lot of talking. Dragons found all of that boring. _I don’t see why not._

_Will Rioth be with us?_

_Not today. H’rek is needed here._

He quibbled about whether to put on his heavy wherhide gear. It would be as hot as ever in the south. Yes, but here at Benden, the air would be chilly high over the Weyr and _between_ was never warm. Having to remove layers was preferable to feeling cold. He dressed quickly, then let Herebeth glide down to the landing area. F’nor was there already, fastening some bundles to Canth’s riding straps.

‘Morning,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘It’s a fine one again.’

‘It is,’ D’gar replied. F’nor seemed much the same as he always was, so either Lessa and F’lar hadn’t told him the full story, or it made no difference to his opinion of D’gar. That made him feel a lot better.

‘So, who is it I’m going to need to talk to in the south?’

He knew part of it, then. ’S’fyn, of course. Probably A’nan and K’din, too. Here at Benden, L’cal, M’shol and As’gal.’

‘I’ll get to them later.’F’nor glanced over his shoulder. ‘Here they are.’

D’gar watched as Ramoth carefully launched herself from her ledge. She was getting quite round in the belly now as her eggs grew and was obviously aware of the need for extra care when taking off or landing. Behind her, bronze Mnementh followed at a safe distance. Beside three of the biggest dragons on Pern, Herebeth looked tiny; like a brown dragon in miniature.

F’nor vaulted to Canth’s neck and D’gar followed suit, fastening his straps. F’lar gave the signal and all four dragons ascended above the Weyr, flying to a good height before going _between._

It was early morning in Southern and the smells of cooking and klah reached D’gar’s nostrils as they landed on the beach. There were a few light clouds breaking up the blue expanse of sky and the trees swayed gently in a light breeze. A perfect morning, about to be disrupted, he thought, wondering what F’drun was doing right now. Eating breakfast, probably, unaware of what was coming. He might ask himself why the Benden leadership had arrived this morning, although it wasn’t uncommon for them to visit. And it wouldn’t be unduly strange for F’nor to accompany them, or even himself, as Weyrlingmaster. The appointment had been announced a few days ago, so news had probably travelled to Southern by now.

The four of them made their way up to the Weyrhall, boots sinking in the soft sand. D’gar unfastened his jacket, too warm already, keeping pace with F’nor who strode alongside. He saw F’lar raise an arm in greeting as he spotted T’bor inside. A few of the riders looked up to see who had arrived, but most soon returned to their food. D’gar quickly scanned the area, but didn’t see S’fyn. Or F’drun, for that matter. It didn’t mean anything, of course. The Weyrhall wasn’t large enough for all of Southern’s inhabitants to eat in one sitting. Some of the riders might have breakfasted earlier and already be out on patrol.

‘What brings you here?’ T’bor asked. ‘Orth didn’t mention you were coming.’

Lessa smiled. ‘My fault. It was a last minute decision to visit. We though we should, before Ramoth’s too egg-heavy to fly far.’

‘Can I offer you some breakfast? Klah?’

‘No need. We all ate earlier, at Benden,’ F’lar said, equally as pleasantly. ‘Finish your own, then we’ll see you back at your quarters.’

‘F’nor can show you the way. I shouldn’t be long.’

Unlike the riders’ wallows, T’bor’s quarters were fashioned like a smaller version of the Weyrhall. Inside it was a similar size to the inner room of D’gar’s weyr back at Benden, although in deference to the climate, there were high, slatted openings to ensure good ventilation while preserving privacy. A dragon-shaped depression in the sand outside showed where Orth usually slept. F’lar and Lessa sat down in the chairs beside the circular table while F’nor and D’gar pulled up a couple of extra seats to join them.

‘Ramoth tells me Prideth and Kylara are at the Hatching Ground,’ Lessa said. ‘That’s good. At least she won’t be interfering for a while.’

‘Do you reckon T’bor has any idea what’s been going on under his nose?’ F’nor asked.

D’gar took note of that; it confirmed that F’nor must be aware of the purpose of today’s visit.

‘I doubt it,’ F’lar said. ‘We didn’t.’

‘What would you like me to do?’ D’gar asked. He expected that F’lar or Lessa would do most of the talking.

‘Your information might prove useful in parts,’ Lessa said. ‘Plus, I think seeing you should make S’fyn feel more at ease when we bring him in.’

‘Once we’ve filled T’bor in on the details, you can go and talk to those riders,’ F’lar instructed F’nor.

He nodded. ‘As you wish.'

‘Ask S’fyn the same questions as the rest of them,’ Lessa put in. ‘That way, it won’t single him out.’

‘Of course.’

The sound of footsteps alerted D’gar to T’bor’s approach. He sat down in one of the free chairs, clearly unaware why they had dropped in. ‘Well, it’s good to see you all here.’ He evidently recognised D’gar from some of his previous visits. ‘And this must be your new Weyrlingmaster we’ve been hearing about.’

D’gar wasn’t sure what to say. He glanced quickly at Lessa.

‘We offered D’gar the position,’ she said. ‘And he accepted.’

She’d have to say that, so no-one was any the wiser as to the reason they were here. It was a clever evasion, he thought, but then Lessa could definitely not be described as stupid.

‘I expect you’d like to see our Hatching Ground,’ T’bor said to him. ‘Kylara’s over there now. Prideth’s beginning to feel broody.’

D’gar smiled back. He was rescued from having to answer by F’lar. ‘Much as I’m sure D’gar would love to see your Hatching Ground, I’m afraid we aren’t here today on a pleasure jaunt.’

‘Oh?’ T’bor asked.

‘No. We needed to talk to you about a very serious issue here in Southern. An issue of which you may be quite unaware. As we were, until D’gar came and talked to us yesterday.’ Lessa paused for moment, watching T’bor for any reaction.

It was clear to D’gar he had no idea what she was going to say. The Southern Weyrleader had a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Why should D’gar know anything about what’s happening in Southern? He’s not even been here since his weyrmate returned to Benden.’

F’lar caught F’nor’s eye. ‘If you could just check we’re alone…’

F’nor strolled over to the doorway and had a look outside. ‘We are.’ He stayed there, keeping watch.

‘What’s all this about?’ T’bor asked. ‘Why the secrecy?’

‘Let’s get straight to the point,’ Lessa said. ‘It seems there’s a plot afoot to make sure you don’t remain Weyrleader next time Prideth rises.’

D’gar saw a mix of emotions flicker across T’bor’s face. Disbelief, mostly, he’d have said.

‘Are you certain about this?’

‘As certain as we can be. F’nor is here with us to speak to some of your riders who may be involved with it.’

‘My riders? I can’t believe anyone from my Wing would do anything so devious.’ T’bor seemed aghast at the thought.

‘Relax, man,’ F’lar assured him. ‘Your wingriders are loyal. But there are some from Prideth’s clutch and Ramoth’s who might not feel the same way.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ T’bor said again. ‘How did you find out about this?’ he asked D’gar.

‘That’s quite a long story,’ he said, looking towards Lessa again. ‘I think the Weyrwoman might want to fill you in on the background first.'

‘Thank you, D’gar,’ Lessa said, before turning to T’bor. ‘I can understand it’s come as a shock to you that any Southern riders may be mixed up in something like this, but they aren’t entirely to blame. That dubious honour has to go to F’drun.’

T’bor shook his head slowly. ‘F’drun? Why would he want to do me any harm? I’ve always been decent to him.’

‘He’s been implicated in the deaths of several people; Holders and weyrfolk both,’ F’lar said solemnly. ‘Now, if you could let Lessa continue.’

She told the story of F’drun’s history at High Reaches in a clear, dispassionate manner. T’bor listened carefully, becoming visibly more shocked as the account went on, although he didn’t interrupt again.

‘D’gar had already found out most of this independently,’ she said, finally. ‘We pieced it all together just yesterday. That was when he also told us what F’drun was planning.’

T’bor sat quietly for a while. ‘It’s hard to take in. That all this could be going on behind my back. How did you know?’ he asked D’gar.

This was his cue. ‘One of the youngsters has been keeping an eye on F’drun and reporting to me.’ He was still careful not to mention any names. ‘You may have noticed F’drun has been befriending some of your young bronze riders?’

‘Well, yes, but I was under the impression he was just giving them tips on Thread fighting and the like.’

‘He may have done that as well. But his main reason was to gain their confidence. He intended using their dragons to block any other contenders during Prideth’s next mating flight so that Ryth could win.’

‘Prideth has always let Orth fly her,’ T’bor said confidently. ‘Ryth wouldn’t even get close.’

‘Maybe not in a fair flight,’ D’gar pointed out. ‘But the plan was that it wouldn’t be fair. You - or Orth - wouldn’t even be taking part, for one thing.’

‘You’ve heard what we uncovered about F’drun’s past,’ F’lar added. ‘He’s good at making accidents happen to people he wants out of the way. Something like that would have happened to you once it became known Prideth was close to rising.’

‘In the story he told the youngsters, dropping a sack of firestone on the Weyrleader’s head was the method used,’ D’gar said.

T’bor winced. ‘That could kill someone.’

‘Exactly. But even if it only did serious damage, it would have the same effect. Weyrleader out of the picture, Weyrwoman’s dragon rises, F’drun wins the mating flight. Then, as a reward, he gives Wingleaders’ jobs out to the riders who helped him get there.’

T’bor was silent for a while, gazing at the far wall as if for inspiration. ‘So, what are we going to do about this? About F’drun?’

‘All we can do is send him back to High Reaches,’ Lessa said. ‘There aren’t really any other options. If he didn’t have a dragon, he could be exiled for his crimes.’

Serious offences such as murder or treason had always been punished by transporting folk to the remote Eastern Isles, D’gar knew. It didn’t happen very often. Once marooned there, the exiles had to eke out a hard living, with no hope of ever returning to civilisation. It would be a pointless exercise for a dragonrider, however, as he had the means of instant escape.

‘In the mean time, until we’ve spoken to T’kul at High Reaches, we’ll take him back to Benden and confine him to his weyr. At least then we can be sure he’s not free to do any more damage.’ F’lar sighed. ‘It’s hard to comprehend someone who’s capable of Impressing a bronze could act in such a way.’

‘Not all queen riders are paragons of virtue, either,’ Lessa said. ‘I’d like to find out if Kylara knew anything about all this.’

‘No. She wouldn’t…’ T’bor’s face fell. ‘I can’t believe that of her.’

F’lar stepped in. ‘She was keen enough to let him try when Prideth rose last time, even though she knew it was a closed flight.’

‘She was infatuated,’ T’bor said. ‘She’s young and sometimes doesn’t think before she acts.’

D’gar felt sorry for him. It was clear that his love for the woman had blinded him to her faults. ‘He’s probably not told her the whole plan,’ he offered. ‘The less people who knew, the better. That’s why he only confided in a few riders.’

F’lar nodded. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. We still need to ask her the question, though. And obviously, we’ll need to speak to F’drun. Where is he this morning? I didn’t see him at the Weyrhall.’

‘I’ve been sending riders out on surveys, as you suggested last time we met,’ T’bor answered. ‘F’drun’s led a couple of them already and he volunteered for this one too.’

‘He’s not alone? Who’s gone with him?’ D’gar felt a quick stab of worry.

‘Oh, just a couple of the youngsters. K’din and S’fyn, I believe.’

‘Do you know exactly where they are?’ Lessa asked, her face reflecting the same concern once she’d heard the names.

‘They’re continuing to explore further south from where they left off last time. This is a vast land, you know. But I don’t understand why you’re all so bothered about it.’

‘Because one of those youngsters is D’gar’s informant,’ she said.

D’gar’s mind was already racing. If F’drun knew someone had been passing information, then maybe he’d taken S’fyn far from the Weyr to harm him. But why should he suspect? S’fyn was discreet. Hopefully, he’d simply chosen to take them both because they were part of his clique.

‘When are they due back?’ F’lar asked T’bor.

‘This evening. Fall’s predicted tomorrow and we always insist riders are back at the Weyr well in advance. I could get Orth to bespeak Ryth, if you like and ask them to return early.’

‘Ask who to return early?’ Kylara stood just outside the door, F’nor still blocking her way. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to him. ‘Must I be kept outside of everything, including my own quarters.’

F’nor stood aside and she swept in to the room, taking them all in with an imperious glance.

‘We weren’t talking to you,’ Lessa said bluntly.

Kylara ignored her. ’Why wasn’t I informed we had visitors,’ she demanded of T’bor.

‘You were busy at the Hatching Grounds. I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘Well, I’m here now.’ She looked around for somewhere to sit but there were no spare chairs. As the most junior in the room, D’gar stood and offered his. There was no point in upsetting her. If she had an inkling of what was going on, she could have Prideth bespeak Ryth. It wouldn’t be possible to provide much detail through the dragons but it might give him warning something was up. He glanced quickly at Lessa, hoping she’d already considered that possibility.

‘I’m glad you’ve joined us,’ Lessa said smoothly. ‘How were the Hatching Grounds?’

‘Everything here is very primitive compared with a proper Weyr.’ Kylara tossed back her loosely bound hair. ‘But Prideth seems happy enough.’

’T’bor was just telling us about the surveys,’ F’lar said. ‘We were interested to hear what had been found and suggested bringing back the survey party early so that we could find out for ourselves. It seems there’s a fair amount of land out there.’

‘Most of it just jungle,’ she said, dismissively. ‘Jungle, swamp and volcanoes, from what I’ve been told.’

‘Volcanoes?’ F’lar sounded alarmed. ‘Hopefully nowhere near the Weyr.’

‘No, no,’ T’bor assured him. ‘A few hours away on dragon back. Of course, they’re having to fly straight on the way out as a dragon can’t go _between_ to a place he’s never seen.’

‘Just as we had to,’ Lessa said to F’nor. ‘When we first discovered this place,’ she added, for D’gar’s benefit. ‘You know, there’s something to be said for being the first folk to set foot on - or even to overfly - a new land. Maybe while we’re here, we could take another ride and see some of it for ourselves?’

That was clever, thought D’gar. A good way to put Kylara off the real purpose of the visit.

F’lar caught on, too. ‘An excellent idea. Mnementh could do with stretching his wings a little. What do you say?’ he asked T’bor. ‘You could show us the sights before we have to leave.’

Kylara looked bored. ‘If you all want to fly off to see a load of trees and lakes, then count me out. Prideth’s feeling a little tired these days. I wouldn’t want her to overstrain herself. It might affect the number of eggs she’ll lay.’ The last was directed at Lessa.

‘Maybe Ramoth’s fitter than Prideth,’ she retorted. ‘We did quite a lot of flying before she clutched last time and she still managed to lay forty-one eggs. How many was it for Prideth?’

‘Thirty-two,’ Kylara said, somewhat sulkily. ‘As well you know. We’ll have to see about this time.’

‘They both had long mating flights,’ F’lar said, attempting to smooth things over between the two women. ‘I’m sure they’ll both lay a good number of eggs.’ He stood. ‘Well then, shall we head off before it gets too hot?’

D’gar fell into step with F’nor as they followed the path back to the beach. That had been well handled, he thought. F’lar and Lessa worked well together and Kylara had seemed none the wiser as to why they were in Southern.

‘I’ll get Orth to give you all co-ordinates, T’bor said as they waited for their dragons to arrive. ‘We’ll talk further when we’re on the way.’

As D’gar had suspected, T’bor only took them a short distance from the Weyr. He recognised the place as being further along the river where he’d met S’fyn, just a few days ago.

‘I don’t know exactly where they are now,’ T’bor said. ‘We can probably get to within an hour’s ride though, as Orth has been as far as the two lakes. They’d have flown due south from there, over the volcanic badlands. We wanted to discover how far they extended.’

‘What if I get Herebeth to bespeak Folath and ask him?’ D’gar suggested. ‘That should also give S’fyn a warning that we’re on the way.’

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ F’nor said.

‘Wait.’ Lessa stopped them. ‘At the moment, we’re assuming F’drun suspects nothing, right?’

‘I was wondering about that back at the Weyr,’ D’gar said. ‘What if he picked S’fyn to go with him because he intended doing him some harm? I mean, out in the middle of nowhere accidents can be covered up a lot more easily.’

‘There’s the other lad with them too,’ T’bor reminded them. ‘K’din. The last time F’drun went out he took two others with him. It might mean nothing at all.’

‘That’s true,’ F’lar said. ‘But we need some kind of plan for what we’re going to do once we arrive.’

‘He’s bound to think it strange when we all turn up.’ F’nor stroked Canth’s neck. ‘It’s out of the ordinary to have two Weyrleaders and a Weyrwoman drop in for no good reason. And he hates D’gar, so seeing him along with us might make him wonder just what we’re there for.'

‘But he won’t know for sure,’ F’lar mused. ‘If I were him, I wouldn’t just jump to conclusions that might give away my plan. I reckon he’ll be cautious, but until he’s certain why we’re there, he won’t try any tricks. So our best bet is to treat it as if we’re just on a sightseeing trip. If they’re flying when we catch up to them, we need to make them land. Then once they’re on the ground we can get him talking. There’s four of us, not including Lessa, so if we can get close enough, we should be able to overpower him easily.’

‘K’din might jump in to help him,’ D’gar warned.

‘Still only two against four,’ T’bor said. ‘And K’din’s a lightweight. S’fyn should be on our side anyway, even if he’s taken by surprise so that puts the odds in our favour even more.’

‘What if he tries to run for it?’ D’gar asked. If he got on board Ryth and went _between_ there’d be no easy way to find him.

‘Ramoth can take care of that.’ Lessa offered. ‘A queen can always command a bronze. She’ll stop him taking off if needs be.’

F’lar had a determined look. ‘So our plan is to ride in looking casual, put him at his ease, then grab him when he’s not suspecting it. Ramoth can subdue Ryth and we all go straight back to Benden. Does that sound sensible?’

‘I reckon so,’ T’bor said. ‘Once we’re in the air again, Orth will guide your dragons to the lakes and we fly south from there. That way, no-one’s any the wiser that we’re on the way.’


	43. The Hunt is On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weyrleaders, F'nor and D'gar go in search of F'drun

The greenery surrounding the two lakes had long since given way to more barren terrain. Volcanic ash from an eruption had spread over a wide area. From the air, everything appeared dry and dead. Mounds of reddish coloured sand were chaotically strewn with larger, jagged boulders. Slabs tilted at every angle, as if hurled carelessly by gigantic forces. A landscape of tortured rock showed where lava had once flowed, then solidified. Above it, a heat haze distorted the air. As they flew further south, it became clear they had entered an area where those same volcanic forces were still active. Wisps of smoke rose up from craters in the ground, with a smell reminiscent of rotting eggs.

_I do not like this place,_ Herebeth said, having to correct his course yet again due to the thermals above the badlands. _How much further must we fly?_

_I’m not sure. We are searching for Folath, Riylonth and Ryth. They are out here somewhere._ As all the others did, he scanned the horizon for the sight of three bronze dragons. _They wouldn’t stop somewhere like this, that’s for sure._

_I can ask Folath where they are._

_No, don’t do that. We don’t want him to know we are coming. It’s a surprise._ D’gar took a drink of water from his flask, glad that he’d brought it. Glad too that he’d worn wherhide. Although the sun was warm, the air around them felt chilly. He realised they were probably at a higher altitude than the Benden peaks by now, although the ascent had been gradual. Up ahead, the cone of a volcano rose higher than the surrounding terrain. If it had been extinct, it would make a superb Weyr, but the smoke that issued from the top and from multiple vents around the sides showed that was far from being the case. Maybe it was the mountain that had created all of this desolation?

There were splashes of colour on the slopes and plateau below; a virulent yellow clustered around several lakes of a brighter green than any dragon’s hide. The foul smell became stronger.

_Ramoth has found them,_ Herebeth said. _We follow her course._ He banked slightly to the right, D’gar straining his eyes. Of course, dragons had much better eyesight than humans; it was how they managed to spot Thread even when flying through cloud. He didn’t see the dragons until they were far closer.

They’d stopped on a ridge high above the green lakes, near to the top of the mountain. The three dragons rested on a wider shelf and their riders were small specks further along the rim of the crater. D’gar wasn’t sure why they’d chosen to stop in such a place, except that the views were spectacular. It made him appreciate the vastness of Pern and certainly of this southern continent. Including their first jump _between_ , he reckoned they must have flown almost the distance from the Weavercrafthall in Boll to Fort Hold. Even if a large part of it was as uninhabitable as this, that still left a lot of land where people could live.

F’lar signalled that they were to land. As they descended, the dragons looked up in surprise. F’drun would definitely know he had company now, as Ryth would tell him of their approach. Even if he didn’t recognise the bronze and brown dragons, Ramoth’s golden hide would be unmistakable. She was a deeper gold than Prideth and more than a tail length larger.

After they’d dismounted, F’lar beckoned them closer. ‘Remember what we agreed. Lessa and I will take the lead. Everyone else, be ready for my signal.’

Herebeth’s eyes whirled red as he saw Ryth. The bronze dragon spread his wings in threatening fashion and hissed. Those two would never be anything less than uneasy with each other.

_Calm down,_ D’gar said. _We’re not here for a fight, just a peaceful visit._

_I do not like that dragon or his rider._

Herebeth’s mood transmitted across. D’gar felt almost as edgy as his dragon as he walked alongside F’nor, being careful of his footing on the rough terrain. From the air, it had looked a fairly smooth path, on the ground it was anything but. To his left, the mountainside fell away to the distant lakes. To the right, the view was obscured by steam and smoke, although the rising heat indicated they must be close to one of the many vents. He wondered how safe they were; how much warning a volcano gave before it erupted? The Teaching Ballads all said that the beginning of a Pass could be predicted by the increase in volcanic activity and earthquakes. _Seas boil, mountains move_ , he quoted to himself. Perhaps this area had only sprung back into life as the Red Star drew closer to Pern?

F’drun and his companions had evidently seen them. They began to make their way back towards the party, F’drun raising a hand in cautious greeting. S’fyn and K’din walked either side of him. D’gar wondered what must be going through S’fyn’s mind and whether he should ask Herebeth to reassure Folath. But the machinations of humans were too complex to explain via dragons, so it was probably best to say nothing, as it would be bound to end up in worse confusion.

‘Here we go,’ F’nor said quietly as they drew still closer.

‘Good morning,’ F’lar said, casually, as if he were out for a stroll around the Weyr Bowl. ‘What a spectacular place you’ve discovered here.’

’T’bor was trying to tell us all about it, but I just had to see for myself.’ Lessa gushed with enthusiasm. ‘Have you discovered yet how far it extends.’

‘Not yet, Weyrwoman,’ F’drun said. ‘We’d just stopped to let the dragons rest for a while before flying further south.’ He spotted D’gar behind T’bor and narrowed his eyes slightly. D’gar tried not to look at S’fyn. He didn’t want to inadvertently give anything away. Herebeth’s irritation at being close to Ryth grated on his nerves, uncomfortable as a fragment of grit in your boot. His hand itched to be near his belt knife, but he willed himself to stay as outwardly calm as Lessa and F’lar.

‘What’s he doing with you?’ F’drun asked, suspicion in his voice, gesturing toward D’gar.

Lessa replied smoothly. ‘You mean D’gar? He’s our newly appointed Weyrlingmaster at Benden. We all flew south this morning to visit the Hatching Grounds, then T’bor told us of the lands you’d found. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss.’

F’drun looked to relax slightly at that. Lessa had played her part well, so far. ‘Amazing views,’ she went on, turning to take in the panorama. ‘And to think we’re probably the first people to set foot here, as well.’

Beside him, he felt F’nor shift, like a feline waiting to pounce. At almost the same time, Herebeth said, _Mnementh says now._

Everything happened very fast. Lessa stepped aside. F’drun’s eyes widened as he saw the men lunge toward him. He reacted swiftly, grabbing the youngster to his left, while drawing his belt knife with his right hand. Before F’lar or T’bor could reach him, he had the knife held at S’fyn’s throat. ‘Keep back. All of you.’

‘What?’ K’din seemed stunned at the speed it had all changed.

‘Shut up,’ F’drun said to him. ‘Get them out of the way so I can pass.’

K’din seemed uncertain of whether to obey. Even though he’d been drawn in by F’drun’s plotting, it was one thing to talk about deposing a Weyrleader, quite another when it became hard reality.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ T’bor said, still in a half crouch. ‘We know what you’ve been up to, but it has to end here.’

‘If you don’t get back, then it’ll end with this lad’s blood over these rocks.’ F’drun sounded determined. ‘Ask D’gar. He knows I’ll do it.’

D’gar heard dragons scuffle in the background, but daren’t look around. He heard one yelp. At the same moment S’fyn flinched and he guessed Ryth had attacked Folath.

‘Let him go,’ Lessa said. ‘Don’t make things any worse for yourself.’

‘And then go tamely back with you to Benden? Is that what you want?’ F’drun moved his position slightly so that he could see everyone. He had the advantage of also being able to see his dragon.

_What’s Ryth doing?_ D’gar asked Herebeth.

_He has Folath by the neck. Ramoth is trying to make him release his hold, but he resists. Folath hurts._

S’fyn’s eyes were closed as he felt the pain broadcast by his dragon at the same time as he was being threatened by F’drun’s knife.

‘You won’t get away,’ Lessa said in a reasonable tone. ‘Ryth can’t outfly Ramoth.’

D’gar saw desperation flash in F’drun’s eyes. If anything happened to S’fyn, he’d never forgive himself. ‘Let the lad go,’ he said, thinking fast. He had an idea. It might work, or it might not but it was the best chance he could give S’fyn.

F’drun smiled nastily. ‘And why should I do that?’

‘He’s not done you any harm. He’s an innocent party in all this. Let him go.’ He stepped forward. ‘Take me instead, if you want a hostage.’

He saw Lessa’s expression, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He’d only get one chance and he had to make the most of it.

‘Drop your belt knife, then,’ F’drun said. ‘Nice and slowly.’

‘D’gar…’ Lessa warned.

‘This isn’t Benden business,’ he said. ‘This is between us.’

_What are you doing?_ Herebeth shrieked in his mind. _The man is dangerous._

_I know._ He felt totally calm now, as calm as those times when he’d deliberately courted death during Threadfall, after S’brin died. _This is all my fault and it’s up to me to put it right. Tell Rioth I’m sorry. Tell her to tell H’rek I love him._ The knife slipped from his fingers, clattering against the rocks as it fell.

F’drun smiled, then shoved S’fyn away violently, toward F’lar and T’bor. They had to jump aside from him as he fell, skidding down the incline. F’nor reached out to grasp his arm before he went any further, hauling him back from the edge. D’gar registered all of this in a split second before launching himself at F’drun while he was still off balance, bringing him down. Dragons screamed. He saw the flash of a knife blade as it caught the sun and braced himself for pain. But F’drun missed, the point skidding off one of the rocks. They rolled over. D’gar felt the stones digging into his back even through thick wherhide, then they both went over the top of the escarpment, down into the smoke.

F’drun tried to stab him again. ‘You bastard,’ he grunted. They fell further, loose pebbles landsliding around them, faster and faster. At some point, F’drun lost hold of the knife. His fist caught D’gar on the side of his face. His cheek scraped against the ground. All around, foul smelling smoke whirled, the heat becoming more intense by the moment. D’gar dug his boot heels into the ground, trying to slow himself. F’drun kicked at his legs and tried to hit him a second time. D’gar managed to turn aside and heard F’drun swear as his fist crunched against rock. They rolled over until he was dizzy with it, rocks pummelling his breath away. All of a sudden, he felt empty space behind his shoulders and turned to look down.

His upper body was suspended over a precipice, F’drun on top of him. The smoke thinned, giving a dizzying glimpse of a long drop below. Up above, he saw bright blue sky for a brief moment before it was obscured again.

F’drun pushed him closer to the edge. ‘You are going to die,’ he hissed.

‘Not without you.’ D’gar didn’t know if the ground was solid enough to achieve what he wanted, but he had to try. The wrestling moves he’d practised back at Fort, with S’brin, were almost second nature. And F’drun, although taller, probably didn’t weight much more than S’brin had done. He counted in his head. One, two, three, then used his legs to propel them both over the brink. For a few moments, F’drun clung on to him. He saw the utter disbelief in the bronze rider’s eyes as he realised what D’gar had done, then he fell away into the void.

D’gar felt the world spinning around him. He had time to wonder if the impact would hurt much before it killed him. He hoped it was quick, anyway. Then something large and dark loomed above him and he felt it seize hold of his shoulders, ripping the wherhide, but holding on as tight as life.

_I have you,_ Herebeth said. _Never do that again._ His wings spread out, slowing their descent, before beating strongly to take them back up through the smoke, to the ridge. Gently, he set D’gar down. He sat before he fell, his legs feeling strangely wobbly. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, uncaring of the foul-smelling air.

_How did you find me?_

_I saw your visual._ Herebeth sent him the image of blue sky and the rocky edge. _I knew where you had been so I made sure I was where you would be._

He still wasn’t sure exactly how Herebeth had done it but was just grateful that he had. It was so good to be alive.

Boots crunched on rock as the others ran to join him. Lessa got there first. ‘Are you mad?’ she cried.

‘Yes, probably.’ He felt battered, as if, well, as if he’d just rolled down half of a mountain. It was amazing he’d not broken anything. He quickly checked his arms and legs, just to see if they were in one piece. Yes, everything seemed to be in the right place.

S’fyn got there next and threw his arms around D’gar. ‘You saved me!’

‘No, F’nor did that.’ As Herebeth moved aside, he saw the other dragons. Golden Ramoth, the mid-brown of Canth, the gleaming bronze of Mnementh, Orth, Riylonth. Folath, with a deep gash on his neck, oozing green ichor… ‘Where’s Ryth?’

‘He’s gone,’ Lessa said. ‘He went _between_.’ Her voice was sad. The loss of a dragon was never a cause to celebrate, however bad his rider had been.

D’gar shut his eyes briefly. F’drun was dead, then. The threat that had been hanging over him - over so many - was gone.

The rest arrived. F’lar looked at him and shook his head. ‘You have the luck of a Bitran,’ he said.

‘No, I have the best dragon on Pern.’ He looked up at Herebeth. ‘I couldn’t half do with a strong cup of klah right now.’

It took a few tries to get back on Herebeth where he should be, between the neck ridges. Everything was starting to hurt now, but Folath was probably worse off. There was a short discussion between T’bor and F’lar about whether he should be allowed to fly _between_ with such a deep wound. They decided that he probably wouldn’t have the strength to fly straight all the way back to the Weyr and he couldn’t be left where he was. S’fyn wrapped his flying jacket around the wound and Lessa bound it in place with a scarf she had, to protect him as best they could against the freezing cold of _between._

They arrived back at Southern Weyr in bright sunlight. D’gar had lost track of time somewhere, but figured it must be around midday. As he carefully slid down, leaning against Herebeth’s shoulder for support, he heard a familiar voice.

‘You stupid, sharding fool! I was worried sick…’ H’rek grabbed him. ‘If you didn’t already look like you’d done five rounds with a Gather boxing champion, I’d clobber you myself.’

‘How did you get here? How did you know?’

‘Rioth was going crazy. Herebeth sent her some garbled message. She thought you were going to die!’

‘She must have got it wrong. You know how dragons are.’ _Keep still,_ he said to Herebeth, _or I might fall down._

_I only told Rioth what you told me to say,_ Herebeth protested.

_I know. But that’s between us. All right?_

‘I thought you said you wanted klah.’ T’bor wove his way through the dragons. ‘Come on. Up to the Weyrhall with you. Can you walk?’

‘I reckon so.’ The sand felt even heavier than usual, grabbing at his feet. He had to lean on H’rek and T’bor to make it all the way, sinking down gratefully on the nearest seat once inside.

‘Do me a favour,’ he said to H’rek. ‘Take Herebeth’s straps off. He wanted a swim while we were here.’

‘In a moment. Can you at least tell me what’s been going on?’

‘It’s a long story…’ He didn’t even know where to start; couldn’t really recall how much he’d told H’rek anyway. Then, as he searched for the words, Kylara pushed her way through the small crowd that had gathered at the entrance to the Weyrhall.

‘Where is he?’ she shrieked. ’Where’s F’drun?’ She spotted D’gar and strode toward him, her face a mask of despair and fury.

He didn’t have the strength to try and avoid her, but H’rek stood, blocking her way. ‘Calm down, Weyrwoman,’ he said respectfully but firmly. ‘D’gar’s in no fit state right now to answer your questions.’

Kylara struck out at him, but he grabbed her arm before the blow landed and held her off until T’bor got there and restrained her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘What have you done to him?’ she sobbed in anger.

D’gar struggled to his feet. ‘I’m afraid he’s dead,’ he stated simply.

As soon as the other weyrfolk heard his words, a low hum of conversation began. The Weyr gossip mill would soon be up to speed.

‘You killed him,’ she gasped. ‘Murderer! I’ll make sure you pay for this…’

‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Lessa stepped forward. ‘F’drun brought destruction on himself by his actions. My only regret is that Ryth had to die, too. Now, do as H’rek said. Calm down and try not to make too much of an exhibition of yourself.’

Kylara seemed to crumple in on herself. She clung to T’bor as if he was the only thing keeping her upright. ‘You are a cold woman, Lessa. Do you even have feelings? I loved him.’

D’gar saw the bleak expression on T’bor’s face and once again, felt desperately sad that he’d fallen for someone like Kylara. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, not entirely sure if he meant it for T’bor or for his Weyrwoman.

Kylara slowly looked around at the assembled weyrfolk. ‘What are you all staring at,’ she said, recovering some of her poise. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’ She pushed T’bor away. ‘I shall be with Prideth, if anyone cares. At least she’ll always be there for me.’ The crowd parted as she left.

F’nor handed D’gar a cup of klah. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ He turned to H’rek. ‘Can you imagine, he’s just rolled down half a mountain, fallen off the edge and got rescued by his dragon mid-air and the first thing he asks for is a cup of klah.’

D’gar sat again, still not entirely sure if he could carry on standing. It was shock, he knew, having experienced the effects a few times before in his life.

‘You should probably see a healer,’ Lessa said. ‘Either here, or back at Benden.’

‘I’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken.’ He took a sip of the klah, thankful he was alive to be able to taste it. He patted the seat next to him, encouraging H’rek to sit down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But I did mean what I told Herebeth to tell you. I love you, H’rek.’

H’rek gently stroked the side of his face that wasn’t too badly injured, then leaned in for a kiss. ‘I love you, too,’ he said, softly.


	44. A Benden Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar returns to Benden Weyr

The Benden infirmary was becoming an all too familiar place. D’gar sat patiently as the healer examined him. He winced slightly whenever she hit a particularly tender spot.

‘You really do get yourself into the wars,’ she said. ‘But you’re right. There’s nothing broken. You won’t be feeling up to much for the next couple of days, though. I’ll give you some fellis to take for the pain and to help you sleep.’ She turned to H’rek. ‘Just two drops in a cup of wine should suffice. Don’t let him have too much.’

‘I know about fellis, thanks,’ D’gar said. ‘And I can still pour out my own wine.’ A sudden thought came to him. ‘It’s Fall tomorrow. Who’s going to lead the Wing?’

‘Isn’t that why you have Wingseconds?’ H’rek pointed out. ‘Don’t even think about trying to ride or I’ll have to be a bit more heavy handed with the fellis.’

The healer smiled. ‘Will you be able to get back to your weyr, or shall I have a bed made up for you here?’

‘I’ll get to my weyr.’ He’d managed to get back on Herebeth for the flight to Benden. The short hop up to the weyr wasn’t going to hurt any worse. ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’

‘Remember, take it easy for the next few days. Rest will help your body heal quicker than anything else.’

It was hard to believe that it was still only mid-afternoon. So much had happened in such a short space of time. As H’rek helped him to settle down and gave him the prescribed dose of fellis, he kept getting flashbacks to the earlier part of the day; sharply focussed images that snapped him back to full wakefulness, even though he just wanted to sink down into the soft mattress.

‘Would it help to talk about it now?’ he asked. ‘Or should I leave you to sleep?’

‘I can’t. Not right now.’

‘I knew there was something up with you this morning. Why didn’t you say something?’

‘I couldn’t. They’d told me not to. F’lar and Lessa,’ he explained. ‘We were concerned that F’drun might find out. I was worried for S’fyn’s safety more than anything. That’s why I didn’t tell them all of it. That’s why they’re not going to let me have that job.’

‘What?’ H’rek asked.

‘I was offered it before all this. When they still believed I was trustworthy and responsible. I’m lucky they’re even letting me stay here.’

H’rek looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. What are you talking about?’

The fellis was working now. His thoughts were spinning around. It was a similar sensation to being drunk. ‘I told them about F’drun threatening you. He was going to send Ryth after Rioth, when she next rises.’

H’rek looked horrified. ‘When did he say that?’

‘Back in Southern. That night we were all drinking. I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you were worried enough about her next mating flight. But it turned out fine. Once I told F’lar, he said you could stay here and help me. So that problem was solved.’

‘What else happened?’ H’rek prompted him. ‘Why would Lessa and F’lar want you to leave Benden? Or not give you the Weyrlingmaster’s job?’

‘After I’d said about you, Lessa asked if I had anything else to tell them. About F’drun, that is. She said they might take a trip to High Reaches, but I never thought they’d actually go. You know how it’s been, the last few months. I’ve been trying to warn people F’drun was up to no good, but no-one took it seriously enough. I couldn’t take that chance, this time. Not with S’fyn risking his life.’

H’rek mulled that over. ‘So it was S’fyn who was spying on him? That makes sense. He was the one who sent you that message?’

D’gar nodded weakly. His eyes were heavy. He lay back on the pillow, but as he started to drift off, he felt himself falling again. He snapped back to wakefulness.

‘And you told that to F’lar and Lessa, I suppose?’

‘Only when they got back from High Reaches. She’d found out all about F’drun, knew how dangerous he was. She was angry I’d not given them the whole story.’

H’rek nodded. ‘I wouldn’t fancy being on the wrong end of Lessa’s temper. Did she shout much?’

‘She doesn’t shout. Just makes you feel like you should crawl away into some little crevice and never come out again. Anyway, she and F’lar had discovered most of what I already knew. That was when she said it was their decision as to when any of us get sent back to our own Weyrs. I thought she was going to get rid of me right away.’

‘But you hadn’t done anything.’

‘Exactly. And I should have done. I should have told them.’ Why was it so hard to make him understand?

‘You tried telling R’feem and that got you nowhere. Besides, why should you go to them? You aren’t a Benden rider. Weren’t, I mean.’

‘I doubt they’re going to want me to transfer now. Not when I’m no use to them.’ He felt that sense of despair begin to overwhelm him again. ‘By not telling them, it put a lot of people in danger. S’fyn, T’bor…’

’T’bor? Had F’drun threatened him too?’

Too many questions. He’d lost track of it all himself. ’Didn’t I say about that?’

H’rek shook his head.

‘He wanted to be Weyrleader. F’drun, that is. The only way Ryth would catch Prideth was to hurt T’bor. And get his bronze riders to block any other dragon.’ He sighed. ‘They were going to practise on green flights. On you.’ The urge to sleep was stronger now. He fought against it.

H’rek held his hand. ‘You’re not making a lot of sense. It’s probably best to tell me later on, once you’ve slept for a while.’

H’rek’s voice was slipping away, just as he’d slipped down the edge of the mountain. He was falling again…

_I will not let you fall._ Herebeth’s voice was soothing. _You need to sleep now. I will keep you safe._

‘Would you like some klah?’ someone said. He recognised H’rek’s voice, distant, as he clawed his way back up from the fellis-induced stupor. He had no idea how long he’d slept. ‘Please,’ he said, his throat dry.

‘Oh, you’re awake now.’ H’rek leaned over the bed. ‘I was just asking the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman if they wanted klah. You want one as well?’

He nodded. Lessa and F’lar were here? In his weyr? He needed to wake up properly.

H’rek called down the service shaft. D’gar forced his eyes open, then tried sitting up. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it might. That must be the fellis, too.

F’lar was perched on the edge of his desk, Lessa sitting in the chair beside it. ‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked kindly.

‘Full of fellis.’ That sounded funny. He laughed, then stopped as it sunk in they were actually there. For a moment, he’d thought it was all a dream. ‘Sorry. I should get out of bed.’

‘No need to stand on ceremony,’ F’lar said. ‘It’s just a quick visit. If you’re up to it, we should talk.’

H’rek returned with a tray of steaming drinks, placing them carefully on the desk. ‘There you are.’

He brought D’gar’s over, then turned back to the Weyrleaders. ‘Would you like me to leave you?’

‘No need. It’s your weyr, too.’ F’lar looked around. ‘This used to be mine, you know. This is where I first brought Lessa, when she arrived at Benden.’

Lessa smiled. ‘Seems like an age ago. Still, you’ve made it look nice.’

‘That was down to H’rek and J’rud,’ D’gar said, cradling the cup in both hands. ‘I can’t decorate to save my life, or so they tell me.’ He felt slightly more awake now.

‘Well, I daresay you won’t be here much longer,’ F’lar said.

D’gar’s heart sank. Had they changed their minds about letting him stay, as well?

‘Why’s that?’ H’rek asked, seemingly oblivious.

He vaguely remembered talking to H’rek before he’d dropped off, but couldn’t recall too much about what he’d said. So, H’rek probably didn’t know the half of what had been going on.

‘Well, you’ll be moving down to the Weyrlingmaster’s quarters, won’t you?’ F’lar picked a cup off the tray for himself and handed the other to Lessa.

It took a few moments for that to sink in. Hadn’t he just said…? ‘You mean you’re still offering me the job? You still trust me with your weyrlings?’

Lessa frowned. ‘I thought you already knew that. I’ve told you that you were our choice as Weyrlingmaster.’

Before everything, yes. He cast his mind back. This morning, she’d introduced him to T’bor and Kylara as Benden’s new Weyrlingmaster, but he’d assumed it was to avoid any complicated explanations. They’d needed to make everything seem as normal as possible, after all. ’Oh.’

‘You really do jump to conclusions, don’t you,’ she said. ‘First of all, you think that we’re going to throw you out of the Weyr, then that we don’t want you as Weyrlingmaster anymore.’

‘But I didn’t tell you the truth…’

‘“Put people’s lives in danger. Irresponsible.”’ she quoted. ‘You said all that before. And I’ll admit, it annoyed me - and I think F’lar would agree - that you didn’t come to us straight away with your information about F’drun. Although your explanation as to why made sense too, once I’d thought it through. We’ve not really encouraged any of you to integrate, even though it’s obvious you’ll all be here for a while.’

‘Although some folk seem to be managing to mix fairly well on their own.’ F’lar glanced at H’rek.

‘So you’ve forgiven me?’ He wanted to be absolutely sure.

‘Even if we had been having second thoughts, after your actions this morning any doubts were cast aside,’ F’lar said. ‘You saved S’fyn’s life at great risk to your own, in a totally selfless manner.’

‘Because I put him in danger in the first place,’ he muttered.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Lessa said. ‘Tell me, if F’drun had grabbed K’din instead, would you have done the same?’

He thought for a moment. He wouldn’t have wanted to see F’drun hurt anyone. ‘Probably, yes.’

‘So I’ve no misgivings about putting you in charge of our youngsters. You’ll teach them well, and stand as a shining example of how a dragonrider should behave.’ Lessa raised her cup of klah, then took a drink. ‘A Benden dragonrider, at that.’

D’gar felt confused again. ‘But I’m not…’

‘You are. We applied to T’ron the day you accepted the job and the transfer notification arrived back, signed and sealed while we were out of the Weyr this morning.’

H’rek clapped his hands in glee. ‘You see. I said it would all be fine.’

‘Did you? When?’ The fellis was still making his thought processes slightly fuzzy. In fact, could he really be sure that he hadn’t dreamed all of this?

_Herebeth. Am I awake?_

_You do not talk to me when you sleep, so I believe you must be._

‘He’ll be all right,’ H’rek said. ‘It’s the fellis talking.’

‘You probably won’t feel like coming down to the dining hall this evening,’ F’lar went on. ‘So we’ll leave the formalities for another time. By the way, V’vil’s volunteered to act as Wingleader for Fall tomorrow. Are you happy with that?’

‘Perfectly. He’d be my choice too. And R’feem’s, for that matter.’

‘Good,’ Lessa said. ‘We’ll leave you to rest now.’

H’rek showed them out. D’gar sipped his klah. Everything was all right. He still had the job; had never lost it, if what they’d just said was true. He’d be staying at Benden, with H’rek. Despite the tiredness and the aches that lurked under the surface of his drugged state, he felt better than he had for a long while.

As always, injuries were much worse the following day. During the evening and night, he’d hobbled to the necessary a few times, feeling a bit stiffer and more bruised on each trip.

‘I’d give you more fellis, if I dared,’ H’rek said. ‘Usually, I don’t mind you moaning in bed, but I’d rather it not be from pain. Can’t you just slather yourself with numbweed, or something?’

‘Everything hurts.’ He cautiously stretched, feeling every muscle in his body protest. ‘I’d have to immerse myself in the stuff to do any good. No, I’ll be fine, once I get moving.’

‘This is what you’re going to be like when you’re eighty.’ H’rek stooped and pretended to hobble round the weyr. ‘Oh, my back! Oh, my leg!’ he said in a quavery voice.

‘You’ll be just as bad.’

‘I’ll be five Turns younger than you.’

‘Get off with you, youngster,’ D’gar put on a similar voice. ‘Go and shovel some firestone.’

‘It’s all done, ready for later. Want some breakfast?’

‘Might as well.’

By mid-morning, he let H’rek help him onto Rioth and ferry him down to the Bowl, where all of the Wing were eager to find out exactly what had happened.

‘Is it true you threw F’drun into a volcano after he tried to knife T’bor?’ M’rell asked.

‘Weyr gossip’s obviously been working as well as usual.’ D’gar sat in the proffered chair. ‘It wasn’t quite like that.’

‘But he’s definitely dead?’ T’burrad asked.

‘No-one would survive a fall from that height. Besides, Ryth went _between_.’

‘Good riddance,’ said T’rai. ‘I’m sorry about his dragon, but F’drun got what he deserved. I doubt anyone will mourn him.’

‘Kylara was pretty upset.’ He wondered if she was still grieving. T’bor wouldn’t have an easy time of it for a while.

‘And did Herebeth really pluck you from a rock sinking into a lake of lava?’ J’rud asked.

‘I don’t look singed, do I? Another exaggeration. He caught me in mid-air.’

The questions went on, not just from his Wing, but from quite a few curious Benden riders. By the time they started to get ready for Fall, he heard most of the more outrageous stories and hoped he’d quashed a few more. It wouldn’t stop the gossips, of course. They were bound to come up with some other over-dramatised versions. Although the whole thing had been quite dramatic enough, really.

Three days later his bruises were beginning to blossom into a variety of colours. At dinner, F’lar called him up to the top table to receive his Benden shoulder knots. Two sets; one for when he became Weyrlingmaster full time, the other interim set showing his current rank as Wingleader.

‘I’ll have those back once you don’t need them any more,’ F’lar said. ‘They’re my old ones, from before I became Weyrleader. Sentimental value.’

By then, the story of F’drun’s plot was known to everyone in the Weyr and the cheers echoing around the dining hall weren’t just from his wing riders. S’fyn and H’rek had helped to spread it, S’fyn adding a few flourishes of his own as he told of the secret meetings F’drun had held during which he enticed impressionable riders to join his cause. The youngsters who’d been part of that were given punishment duties and it was clear they’d lost a lot of respect from everyone in the Weyr. Hopefully it would be a wake-up call and they’d go on to better things.

One sunny afternoon, D’gar sat at the lakeside. Bavi had decided to hold another picnic. Dragons were splashing around in the water, children played the usual games, riders and weyrfolk ate and mingled.

J’rud, Sh’ran and T’rai shared the same spot as he and H’rek. Not for the first time, the topic of F’drun arose.

‘It’s a pity you never got the chance to find out why he did any of it,’ Sh’ran mused. ‘I mean I can understand wanting to be Weyrleader. It’s the ultimate ambition of most bronze riders, after all. But at any cost?’

T’rai threw a pebble into the water. ‘He was always having to prove he was better than anyone else. Don’t know why. He was brought up just the same as the rest of us. You’d think that Impressing a bronze would be enough to stop anyone feeling they weren’t good enough.’

‘A bronze who couldn’t catch a queen, though,’ D’gar put in. He’d found himself wondering about F’drun’s motivations often, when he wasn’t occupied with anything else. ‘Every time Ryth caught a green, it must have made F’drun hate himself that bit more.’

T’rai shuddered. ‘It wasn’t much fun being on the other end of that hatred, I can tell you.’

‘At least he can never hurt anyone else again,’ J’rud said in sympathy.

‘I was speaking with L’cal yesterday,’ H’rek said. ‘He feels ashamed that F’drun managed to take him in. But he said being part of that group made them all feel special; as if they’d been chosen for something important. He said F’drun could be very charming and persuasive when he wanted to be.’

D’gar remembered Pilgra telling him much the same. F’drun had befriended her when she was young and impressionable too.

‘What would have happened to him back at High Reaches, I wonder?’ J’rud said. ‘I mean, they couldn’t have kept him confined to his weyr forever and from what I gather, T’kul didn’t want him around.’

‘He’d not have been around long. T’kul can be pretty ruthless himself.’ T’rai said.

Everyone looked at him, as what he was implying sank in.

‘You mean he’d have been killed?’ H’rek asked, putting voice to what D’gar had been thinking.

‘F’drun’s not the only one at High Reaches who can arrange an unfortunate accident. I’ve seen it happen a few times, but you don’t ask questions.’ T’rai sighed. ‘You learn that pretty fast. And if you persist, then… things happen. Or, if you’re lucky, you get sent somewhere else. Like me, or T’burrad.’ He turned to D’gar. ‘You seem to have fallen on your feet here. Think you could put in a good word for me, with the Benden leadership? I’d like to be able to stay here.’

‘I can certainly try.’

The summer days flew past. D’gar had never worked so hard in his life. It was two days after R’feem had returned and taken back the Wing that Rioth rose, on a hot, sunny afternoon. D’gar was in the middle of a meeting with the Search riders, who’d already made a few trips around the nearest Holds to select likely candidates. In hindsight, H’rek had been in a strange mood all day, although he’d put it down to indigestion after eating one too many meat rolls for breakfast. Rioth hadn’t looked any brighter than normal that morning, although Herebeth had commented she was ‘grumpy’. She’d taken herself up to the fire heights and baked in the sun there.

‘So, if you go back to Greystones and pick up the two lads who were too young for the last clutch, then those three at Bayhead…’ D’gar paused as H’rek ran in to the barracks. ‘What’s the hurry?’

‘It’s Rioth.’

_Rioth is waking,_ Herebeth said. _She is also glowing._

‘Excuse me,’ D’gar said to the Search rider, who gave a smile, as his dragon obviously passed on the message and he realised what was about to happen.

‘Why does she always take me by surprise like this?’

‘Give her another Turn and you’ll get more warning. Hey, next time it happens, I could use you as an example for weyrling training.’

H’rek gave him a dirty look and stomped outside as Rioth swooped down to break the neck of a small herdbeast who never even had a chance to run. He controlled her well, only allowing her to drink the animal’s blood. She raised her dripping muzzle over the carcass and called out her challenge to the gathering male dragons. D’gar had a quick count. Two browns, two blues and a bronze, so far. The sunny weather had caused quite a number of greens to rise over the past sevenday, which had reduced the number of frustrated male dragons eager to chase. That would be to his - and Herebeth’s - advantage.

‘Stay with her, remember,’ he said, standing next to H’rek, whose glassy stare showed that he was already caught up in Rioth’s mind more than his own. ‘Everything will be fine.’

‘Where’s Herebeth?’ he asked, slurring his words.

‘Perched on one of the empty weyr ledges, watching her every move. If Rioth wants him to catch her, he will.’

Several riders were already in the semi-darkness of the flight cave as he helped H’rek inside. He recognised a few of them this time around. He was surprised to see W’stel among them.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Balarth decided this was the time he was going to start chasing greens.’

‘Don’t apologise. You can’t stop your dragon when he makes his mind up.’

He hadn’t expected to see M’shol, the sole bronze rider among the pack. As a former follower of F’drun, he’d found his popularity in the Weyr had sunk very low. D’gar hoped he wasn’t there to try any dirty tricks.

_Watch Kurmianth,_ he sent to Herebeth. _He may be up to no good._

Another couple of riders hurried inside; T’garrin and Av’rar. T’garrin gave him a wry look and a shrug. Belloth didn’t chase very often and his choices were always random. He didn’t win very often either, so probably not one to be concerned about. Av’rar might be in with more of a chance. Jernith came from the same clutch as Rioth and that often worked in a dragon’s favour

H’rek sat on the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable. D’gar wondered if he’d learn to enjoy this aspect of Impressing a green dragon. Some riders never did.

_Hasn’t she gone yet?_

_Killed a second time._ Herebeth’s comment was short. He was too attuned to Rioth to pay much attention to communication. D’gar shut his own eyes briefly to get a glimpse through Herebeth’s; Rioth, sitting up on her haunches and casting a haughty gaze at her prospective suitors. H’rek mirrored her moves, totally at one with his dragon. As she leapt into the air, he gave a start, looking up to the ceiling of the cave.

D’gar knew that H’rek was seeing only sky, feeling the power of Rioth’s wings and her desire to mate. Dragonlust clouded his human mind until he stopped fighting it. He let his own consciousness fade to the background as he became one with Herebeth, rising above the Weyr in hot pursuit. As expected, the blue dragons had the edge in this early part of the flight. Their speed and agility meant they were quickest away. Herebeth and Balarth trailed behind slightly. D’gar and Herebeth both knew they should avoid getting caught up with Balarth; he was a clumsy dragon at the best of times and in the throes of lust, might be even less careful. Kurmianth was still catching up, but he shouldn’t be discounted.

Rioth ascended rapidly; the same tactic she’d used in her previous mating flight. H’rek twisted around to look behind him, mimicking her moves. Soon, the Weyr was far below them. Herebeth saw Belloth and Jernith almost catch each other’s wingtips in their efforts to pull ahead of each other. T’garrin shoved Av’rar, throwing him off balance. Av’rar pushed him back. Good. If they were more concerned with stopping each other, Rioth would easily increase her distance.

Having gained sufficient height, she tested them in different ways, turning quickly one way and another, changing direction constantly to confuse her pursuers. She dived close to one of the peaks, skimming a landscape of scree and dark rock. Herebeth stayed with her. D’gar winced as a slope loomed up, far too close for comfort, bringing back his own memories of hurtling down a mountainside. Mustn’t do that, he told himself, quieting the rational, human part of his mind. Herebeth knows what we’re doing.

Kurmianth had caught up now, pushing Balarth back to third place. Another Benden brown flew alongside, although keeping several dragon lengths distance. An older dragon, wise to the ways of mating flights and not wanting to get involved in the rough and tumble. Herebeth needed to get free of the others too, but couldn’t right now, with Rioth leading the pack this way and that. If he chose the wrong way, he’d never get close enough again.

The pursuit continued, across the mountains. After a particularly taxing set of moves, Belloth turned aside and banked away back to the Weyr. His heart obviously wasn’t in it. Rioth was too young; too full of energy to be a quick catch. D’gar registered T’garrin leaving the cave, shaking his head sadly.

H’rek gave them all a crafty smile as Rioth pulled a classic green manoeuvre, almost stalling as she turned on a wingtip, to slip sideways into a narrow-walled canyon. Jernith followed her almost as easily, while Kurmianth hadn’t any hope of matching that kind of move. It was as much as he could do to avoid smashing into the rock face. Balarth almost collided with him in panic, while Herebeth, being smaller than the Benden dragons, managed to follow her without losing too much ground. He couldn’t see where the other brown had gone.

It had been a good move, but Rioth was losing her advantage by having to fly straight through the canyon. She needed to gain height again. Herebeth was keeping up. He could get even closer if Jernith wasn’t in the way, but there definitely wasn’t room to overtake. As Rioth started to climb up towards clear sky, the older brown dropped down from above. He’d taken a short cut over the top, being more familiar with the terrain. His forelegs grazed her flank as he attempted to seize her. His rider grabbed at H’rek, who fought back.

It was far too close, D’gar knew, despairing that at any moment the Benden brown would manage to snare her sufficiently that she couldn’t get away. But then they burst out of the confined space into a wider valley, giving Rioth the room she needed. She turned aside and dived, leaving the other dragon grabbing at empty air. H’rek triumphantly shoved the man away.

Herebeth got alongside Jernith. The blue dragon was faltering now, his reserves of strength almost depleted. But as Rioth tired too, Jernith took his chance at a catch. Av’rar stepped closer to H’rek, a smile on his face. Rioth glanced behind her again, sensing the proximity of another dragon, then decided that it wasn’t to be Jernith’s lucky day. She turned again, putting herself closer to Herebeth, slowing just enough so that he could reach out for her.

D’gar’s arms caught H’rek as he pulled them close. ‘I’ve got you,’ he said, struggling out of his own clothes while helping H’rek to do the same as dragonlust sent them both into a frenzy of desire. After that, there wasn’t any need for speech, just the dragon fuelled imperative that was impossible to resist. Herebeth and Rioth glided together, borne up by his wings as they consummated their union over the Benden mountains.

At last he regained control over his own body and emotions. He held H’rek close, waiting for him to find his own way back. It had been an intense experience, different from their usual lovemaking, but that was what you expected in a mating flight. If Rioth had picked another mate, he wouldn’t be here now, but that didn’t mean he loved H’rek any the less. He hoped H’rek would realise that, in time.

The glows in the flight cave were dim, but sunlight from the bowl found its way around the curtain, which hadn’t been drawn fully across by the losing riders. H’rek slowly opened his eyes, relaxing against D’gar. ‘I thought Rioth was going to pick Jernith,’ he said quietly.

‘So did I.’ And sooner or later, by chance or by Rioth’s own choice a different dragon would catch her. ‘But this time it all worked out.’ He was aware, in the back of his mind of the dragons resting now, recovering their strength before beginning their long flight back to the Weyr.

‘I think I understand now.’ H’rek continued. ‘What you’ve said so many times. How we feel about each other won’t change. Mating flights don’t really count, whoever catches Rioth.’

D’gar smiled. ‘That’s right. Mating flights aren’t about us. They’re about the dragons.’ He kissed H’rek gently. ‘But right now, that is about us.’

H’rek smiled at him. ‘I know. Let’s enjoy it, eh?’


	45. Epilogue - A Hatching at Benden Weyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'gar attends his first Hatching as Weyrlingmaster

D’gar sat at his desk - the heavy, ancient desk in the Weyrlingmaster’s quarters - and wondered if his predecessors had found the job this difficult. He knew exactly what he wanted to do; design a training program with a good balance of theory and practice, building on existing skills and knowledge at each stage. However, getting the ideas out of his mind and onto hide wasn’t proving to be so easy. He sighed again and tried to decipher the former Weyrlingmaster’s notes. For a Harper, C’gan had terrible writing. Although, maybe he was being unfair. He’d been told the man had been fairly old when he died. Maybe he’d simply been short-sighted? Certainly, his earlier records seemed to be in better shape.

A tentative knock on the clapper fixed to the wall just outside the curtain made him sit up. ‘Yes? Come in.’ No-one appeared. ‘Come in!’ he yelled, irritated at being disturbed the midst of his thought processes.

A skinny arm appeared around the edge of the curtain, followed by an equally skinny frame. The lad hesitated to come any closer. Well, that wasn’t entirely surprising. He was still cautious around D’gar. It wasn’t really surprising, considering how he’d shouted at them in the infirmary, just after T’rai had rescued the pair. ‘Well, what is it?’ he asked, trying to control the annoyance in his voice. From the corner of his eye, he caught the still unfamiliar colours of his shoulder knot; Benden red instead of Fort brown. ‘Come here if you’ve something to say.’

Reluctantly, the lad did so. D’gar had to remind himself that despite having been at Benden for a couple of months, this wasn’t a confident weyrbrat, but a boy who’d grown up in an uncaring Hold. He was probably expecting a cuff at best for daring to disturb someone of higher rank than himself. He saw the lad pull himself straighter, taking a deep breath as if summoning courage to speak and tried to make his expression more friendly. ‘I don’t bite, you know.’

‘Well, sir, I wanted to ask you something.’ The sentence came out all in a rush.

D’gar nodded his head. ‘Go on.’

‘Those candidate lists that’ve been posted. My name’s up there, but Kadin’s isn’t.’

D’gar checked his own copy, chalked up on the slate to the left of his desk. ‘You’re Jevikel, right?’

The lad nodded.

‘It’s down to age. You can’t stand at a Hatching unless you’re fifteen. You’re just past that, but your friend is almost half a Turn younger.’ He knew the two lads were inseparable. Their love for each other was what had led them to be turned out of their intolerant Hold, almost to perish in Threadfall. Stupid Holdbred prejudice.

Jevikel bit his lip. ‘I know that, but I don’t want to stand without him. If we’re going to get dragons, I’d like us to Impress together.’

D’gar knew the facts; even if they did both stand at the same time, they might not both Impress. It was down to the dragons, after all. ‘It’s only a few more months,’ he said. ‘Kadin will be old enough by the next time Ramoth clutches. The rule’s there for a good reason, you know.’ Even to himself, he sounded brusque, inflexible. His tone reminded him of N’teren, the Weyrlingmaster at Fort when he'd been in the barracks.

Jevikel looked at him, then at the floor. ‘In that case, can you take my name off the list too. I don’t want to have the chance if he’s not allowed.’

‘Can’t do that. Sorry. We’re short of candidates as it is. Do you know what happens if a hatchling can’t find his or her rider when the egg cracks?’ He should do. They’d covered that in the lecture he’d given to all the prospective candidates.

‘They die,’ Jevikel said, very quietly.

‘Exactly. And I don’t want any dragons dying on my watch.’ His choice of words sent a shiver of remembrance down his spine. He’d heard exactly the same phrase a long time ago; four hundred and eight Turns, to be precise. Back then, he’d been the one confronting the Weyrlingmaster. “If Serebrin can’t stand, I don’t want to,” he’d said. His lover had been seriously ill, confined to the infirmary and N’teren had given him that answer. D’gar felt a lump in his throat. He’d stood; there had been no choice in the matter. But he’d deliberately closed off his mind and tried not to think welcoming thoughts as the dragons hatched. He’d walked away, dragonless, afraid that he might just have given up his only chance to be a dragonrider.

Jevikel just stood there, looking miserable, while D’gar made a few quick calculations in his head. None of the candidates would be allowed to join a Wing before they were sixteen. And their dragons certainly wouldn’t be ready until they’d reached at least a Turn and a half. Most would have reached their full growth at that age, but they’d need to fill out and muscle up before they’d be ready to graduate to the Wings. By that time, Kadin would have reached sixteen anyway. Shells! This was Benden, where hidebound tradition had been discarded many a time in favour of practicality. ‘You do realise that even if you both stand, there’s no guarantee you’ll both Impress from this clutch.’

He nodded. ‘Or at all.’

They’d not been Searched, but made their own way to the Weyr. Yet two of the Search dragons had considered they both met the minimum requirements. ‘Good. At least you’ve been listening to some of what I’ve been telling you all.’ He leaned back, letting the chair rock onto its rear legs. A bad habit, he knew, but the grooves in the floor showed many a Weyrlingmaster before him had done the same. ‘I’d rather have willing candidates on the Sands than reluctant ones…’ He watched carefully as the lad’s face fell. He wanted to Impress, all right, just not without his friend. ‘So, just this time, given the circumstances in which you both came to the Weyr, I’m going to bend the rules and let you both stand.’

The downcast expression gave way to one of joy. ‘Really?’

‘So don’t disappoint me,’ he added gruffly, channeling N’teren again. ‘Either of you.’

‘No, sir.’

‘I’ll see you both later in the lecture cavern. Now, off you go. I’ve work to do.’

Jevikel almost ran back out, eager to give his good news to Kadin.

D’gar smiled. He’d done the right thing. Let’s just hope both of them do Impress, he thought to himself, before picking up the pen once more.

***

T’garrin had been running a book on the likely outcome of the Hatching. Of Ramoth’s thirty-one eggs - no gold this time - it was expected that around fifteen would be green, eight to ten blue, maybe five or so browns and the remainder bronze.

D’gar wasn’t sure. Both Ramoth and Prideth’s previous clutches had been bronze-heavy. That might mean the same would happen again. Conversely, it could swing the opposite way. There’d been no bronzes at all in his own clutch and only two browns, Herebeth being one of them. T’garrin was also taking bets on which colours the various candidates would Impress. D’gar considered it inappropriate that he should wager any marks on the outcome; he had, after all, some inside knowledge on the personalities of the lads.

H’rek, however, had no such qualms and kept pressing him for hints. ‘So, who do you think is bronze material? I reckon that tall redhead from Ruatha’s a certainty. And the little blond one - Wybrald, isn’t it - is thought to be a good bet for a blue. Bavi’s foster lads for greens?’

He smiled in an inscrutable fashion. ‘I’ve my own thoughts on the matter. And as you know, I’ve been to a few Hatchings. Enough to realise that predictions are often totally inaccurate.’

‘It wouldn’t do any harm to give me a clue. If I win any marks, the next Gather’s on me.’

‘Nope. Sorry. My lips are sealed. You do know that if you start putting marks on anyone, folk will be paying attention to your picks and it will totally change the odds. So you can just take a guess, same as everyone else.’

He did and interestingly enough, his choices were soon the hot favourites, most of the Weyr assuming he’d got them from D’gar, despite his denials.

They’d been to visit the eggs twice, as was Benden custom. The sands were scorching underfoot. D’gar could tell from the increase in temperature and the way Ramoth hissed at them it wouldn’t be long now. It hadn’t been the done thing at Fort to let candidates so close to the eggs, but that was another of F’lar’s innovations, along with inviting relatives to attend the Hatching. D’gar thought it was a sensible idea. If the candidates became familiar with the layout of the Hatching Ground, Ramoth’s intimidating personality and the overpowering heat beforehand, they’d be far less scared on the big day. Considering the majority weren’t Weyrbred, that had to be a good thing; most injuries occurred when lads froze up in terror and didn’t get out of the way in time. H’rek had told him that he’d felt much less nervous through having become acquainted with Prideth and her eggs before stepping out onto the Sands barefoot and clad only in a white robe.

‘Why do we have to wear these stupid things?’ Hortaimin, one of the older boys, asked. He was the third son of a minor Holder and a little bit arrogant. ‘It looks like a dress.’

‘Tradition,’ D’gar said. ‘Hatchlings find it easier to spot you if you’re dressed in white.’ He grinned. ‘It shows up the blood pretty well, too and the healers can get it off easily to tend any wounds.’

He could see from a few of the faces that had hit home. Some of the Weyrbred boys had been in the audience at Nemorth’s last Hatching - the Bloody Hatching as it had become known - and had doubtless scared the others with accounts of it. ‘But remember, so long as you keep your eyes open and don’t panic it’s a lot less likely anyone will be hurt. Try not to cluster together, either. If you stay in loose groups, there’s space for a hatchling to get past if they can’t find the person they’re looking for right away. Don’t try to stop a dragon just because it’s the colour you’d like to Impress. It doesn’t work that way. Your dragon knows who you are. He - or she - just has to find you.’ He’d made a point, during several lectures, to state the positive characteristics of all the dragon colours. Despite that, most of the candidates seemed to want bronze because it was ‘best’.

‘When’s it going to happen?’ another boy asked.

‘When it’s time, Shebil. All we can do is wait and just hope it’s not in the middle of lunch.’ He knew there had been a lot of preparation in the kitchens so that a Hatching Feast could be put together in a couple of hours. Regular meals had been simple and easy for the past few days.

Perrigan piped up next. ’When will they bring our families?’

‘I’m told that the Weyrwoman will be sending riders out to collect your relatives.’ He glanced toward Jevikel and Kadin. He’d already asked them if they wanted riders to notify their families where they were. ‘No point,’ Kadin had said resignedly. ‘They wouldn’t come.’

‘They don’t even care if we’re alive,’ Jevikel had said. ‘In fact, they probably hope we’re not.’

All morning, there’d been an undercurrent of excitement and he’d been hard-pressed to keep the lads attention. It was just before lunch - typical - when Herebeth said, _Ramoth tells me it is close now. She asks for the candidates to be ready._

‘Looks as if we’re going to be missing lunch after all,’ he told them, seeing the expressions around the lecture cavern; eager, scared, excited or a mix of all three. ‘Go and get yourselves cleaned up and dressed. It’s not a bad idea to have a piss before you get out there. You’ll be hopping around anyway from the heat but you don’t want to be greeting your dragons with a bursting bladder.’ 

That got a laugh, as expected. The room emptied in seconds. D’gar looked around and took a deep breath. This was it. His first Hatching as Weyrlingmaster at Benden. He hoped that it all went smoothly. There would be a lot of eyes on him today, some wanting it to turn out a shambles to prove themselves right. 

_It is time_ , Herebeth said simply and then that eerie sound began; the low hum of dragon voices as they prepared to welcome the newest additions to Benden Weyr. 

As he left the cavern, the blue riders he’d assigned to the task were landing, waiting to ferry the boys to the Hatching Ground. He stood to one side as the first few emerged, straightening their robes and tying the sashes that held them together. A few winced as their bare feet came into contact with the odd sharp stone. ‘Good luck,’ he called, as they climbed up onto the dragons. Dust swirled as the wings beat to take off. 

‘Good luck. Don’t forget what I’ve told you.’ Another couple climbed up behind the riders. 

‘Remember, welcoming thoughts. Good luck, everyone.’ 

Jevikel and Kadin walked out together, lightly holding hands. They’d filled out a little in the months since they arrived at the Weyr, but both were still noticeably scrawnier than their fellows. The short Hatching robes revealed scars from their former lives, whether accidental or deliberate D’gar didn’t know. If they wanted to volunteer the information, he’d listen, but at this stage, he wasn’t going to push either of them. 

‘Good luck,’ he called as they took turns to scramble up the foreleg of turquoise-blue Valmath. All of his charges safely away, he called Herebeth down for the short flight to the Hatching Grounds, dropping off outside to make sure there was plenty of freshly butchered herdbeast at the ready. He stood inside the tunnel mouth leading to the side entrance, waiting to greet the new riders as they made their way out. High above, up on the dragon tiers, he spotted Herebeth next to Jekkoth and Zurinth, with Rioth on his right. The low humming increased the air of expectancy as Ramoth stood protectively over her clutch, glaring at the boys who now stood awkwardly on the hot sand. At least the discomfort of their burning feet would distract them from feeling so nervous, D’gar thought. He remembered standing on the Sands at Fort with all the uncertainty swirling around his mind, wondering if any dragon would pick him after he’d deliberately ignored them the first time around. In his mind’s eye, clear as if it was yesterday, he saw Serebrin, determination on his face as he joined a group of lads around an egg they’d presumed held a blue. He’d been predicted to get a blue, just as Detgar, as he’d been called then, was slated for green. 

‘There you are.’ H’rek had found him. ‘I was looking for you in the stands.’ 

‘No, I’m here so I can congratulate them on the way out.’ He remembered that H’rek had Impressed in Southern, where things were done differently. They’d not even had an assigned Weyrlingmaster, just a number of experienced riders who’d covered various aspects of the training. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be done.’ He refrained from adding ‘in a proper Weyr’ as he didn’t want to sound disparaging. In any case, Southern was fast becoming a ‘proper Weyr’ these days. One of T’bor’s Wingseconds had been given the job of Weyrlingmaster there and their own Hatching had taken place just a sevenday past, with all twenty-nine eggs successfully hatched. 

‘They’re rocking,’ H’rek said, his eyes wide as he pointed toward a couple of eggs. One, with brownish patterns that looked a little like the coastline of Nerat, was thought to hold a bronze and was thus proving popular to the candidates. ‘Why is it taking so long?’ 

‘It’s always like this. It can take a few hours for them all to crack. It just feels much faster when you’re standing out there.’ 

H’rek linked his arm through D’gar’s. ‘They’re getting louder,’ he said, gazing around the huge cavern at the massed ranks of multi-hued dragons, all humming. 

Lessa stood next to Ramoth, her dainty hand on the huge, golden head as they waited. A few more eggs had begun to move, seemingly in response to the welcoming chorus. Human voices rose, too; the weyrfolk urging the rocking eggs to crack and the slightly more awed Holders and Crafters who were eager to see if their sons would manage to Impress a dragon. T’garrin was busy too, taking a few last minute wagers. He’d only stop when the first shell cracked. 

D’gar shifted slightly. Even with boots on, the sand underfoot was warm enough to be uncomfortable. There’d be some burned feet to treat later on, less so from the weyrbrats who often ran around barefoot in summer. Mind you, there were only eight of those; lads who’d been considered too young for Ramoth’s first clutch, when they’d deliberately chosen older teens because of the desperate need for sufficient mature dragons to fight Thread. He guessed that the last time these Hatching Grounds had been filled, the atmosphere had been far more tense. Then, the future of Pern had been at stake, with only one Weyr left to defend the planet. 

His musings were disrupted by H’rek’s fingers digging into his arm. ‘Look!’ He pointed toward the far side, close to the wall, where an egg covered in orange and blue blotches had begun to crack. In response, several of the boys, all doing the Hatching Ground high-step, drew closer. 

‘Not too close, you idiots,’ D’gar muttered under his breath. ‘Remember what I told you.’ 

‘They’ll be fine,’ H’rek assured him. ‘Don’t be such a worry-wherry.’ 

‘You sound like my mother.’ D’gar cracked a smile. 

‘You sound like all of their mothers at once,’ H’rek quipped back. 

The crack lengthened vertically until movement could be seen through the gap in the shell. Impossible to tell yet what colour the dragon inside might be, although the nearest boys leaned closer and it looked as if many of the audience were doing the same. 

The dragons’ humming swelled in volume until finally, the egg split neatly in two and the hatchling spread his wings for the first time, scattering sand. He was dark brown, almost the same shade as Herebeth. There was an audible sigh from the audience. They’d been hoping for a bronze, as it was supposedly lucky. D’gar knew better. Of all the Hatchings he’d attended, only twice had a bronze been the first to emerge and those clutches had suffered the same number of losses as any other. For himself, he was grateful to see any colour, so long as it had the correct number of limbs and wings. 

The tiny dragon stepped forward from the ruins of his egg, kicking the pieces aside. Then, ignoring all the boys who’d been gathered around, set off unerringly across the sand, creeling loudly as he sought his life-partner. D’gar saw Perrigan - a local lad, from Benden Hold - turn around, his face suddenly suffused with joy as he heard the voice inside his head that would become inextricably linked with him from this moment on. He rushed to meet his dragon, throwing his arms around the brown’s neck. ‘His name is Regarth,’ he shouted. Cheers and claps came from the audience and a middle-aged couple hugged each other as they watched their son become a dragonrider. 

D’gar remembered the moment Herebeth had first spoken to him, all those Turns ago and smiled softly. He brushed a tear from his eye and noticed quite a few riders doing the same, H’rek included. 

‘It’s wonderful,’ he said. ‘I remember Rioth finding me. She knocked me over.’ 

‘Sshh. There’s another one about to crack.’ 

Sure enough, a second egg was starting to give way under the assault of the hungry hatchling inside. It was smaller than some of the others, which had led many to think it might hold a green or blue, although that wasn’t necessarily the case. When they hatched, there wasn’t a lot of difference in size between dragons. The larger colours just ate more and grew faster. 

A piece of shell flew away as a taloned foot kicked out relentlessly. The foot was wet with egg fluids, but obviously shiny. This one was definitely a bronze. D’gar missed seeing the next few moments as Regarth and his new rider - he’d need to note down the name later once Perrigan decided how he wanted to contract it - came towards them. 

‘Well done. First Impression of the day.’ 

The lad beamed, his arm still loosely around his dragon. ‘We’re starving,’ he said. 

‘Table’s out there, to your left. Remember, feed him slowly, or he might choke on it.’ He gave Perrigan a pat on the back and watched the pair exit carefully. 

‘Look!’ H’rek pulled him back around. 

The bronze hatchling had walked unerringly up to Jevikel, who seemed surprised and awed by the choice. ‘But you can’t pick me,’ D’gar heard him say. ‘I’m no-one special.’ 

The little dragon nudged him so hard he fell over and evidently gave him a good lecture. Then, as he scrambled to his feet, his face changed from uncertainty to a fierce kind of pride. ‘His name’s Chigath,’ he called. ‘Chigath!’ 

H’rek clapped his hands loudly. ‘Well done,’ he shouted, as the pair began to make their way out. 

‘Hey, that’s my job,’ D’gar reminded him. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, as they came closer. Chigath was a rich bronze with a coppery sheen to his hide that would show up even more once the egg-residue and sand was cleaned off. ‘Go and get him some food. Remember, one piece at a time, no matter what he tells you. And make sure he chews it well.’ 

The next few minutes were hectic as several more eggs began to rock more violently and three cracked more or less at the same time. Two blues and a green emerged to make their unsteady way toward the feeding station. 

‘Five down, twenty-six to go,’ D’gar muttered, taking advantage of the lull to make notes on his slate of the hatching order and the dragons names so far. 

‘Two more about to split,’ H’rek said. One on either side of the Hatching Ground were starting to show signs of cracking. It was funny to watch the candidates indecision over which egg to run to. D’gar knew that although it didn’t really matter whether you were close to a particular egg or not, a lot of the running around at this point was just a way to keep your feet relatively cool. 

Another green hatched from the one on the left-hand side. His heart lurched as he saw she was a very similar shade to Zemianth. One of the Weyrbred lads - Kernam - Impressed her, calling out, ‘Siamath. She’s Siamath,’ as a soppy smile overwhelmed him. 

‘It’s a brown,’ H’rek said, pointing to the other one. ‘Carmalth, I think he said.’ 

They carried on in the same way for the next couple of pairings, H’rek listening for the names while he scribbled, congratulating those who passed by and reminding them not to let their dragons eat too fast once they got outside. There would be a couple of older riders waiting to remind them yet again as their dragons’ feelings of hunger overwhelmed the new riders. D’gar still worried a little. He’d seen a few hatchlings almost choke themselves, although usually a few coughs, or in the worst cases, someone having to fish out the piece of meat from the dragon’s gullet did the trick. 

‘Kadin’s got a green,’ H’rek said. ‘I’m so glad.’ 

‘Did you get her name?’ 

‘He was too quiet. You’ll have to ask him yourself on the way past.’ 

D’gar sighed. Although he was pleased that both the boys had Impressed and that there was every chance their dragons might mate at some point in the future, he knew that Kadin’s green was almost certain to rise long before Chigath became mature enough to be interested. He foresaw a bit of support being needed there. But today was the Hatching and all that was a long way ahead. ‘Well done, lad,’ he said. ‘What was her name again?’ 

‘Wenlirth,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t she the most beautiful dragon you’ve ever seen?’ His grin looked wide enough to split his face. 

D’gar had never seen him look so happy before and suspected that no-one but Jevikel ever had. ‘She’s gorgeous. A fine colour. Now, don’t forget to make her eat slowly and chew each piece of meat thoroughly. I’ll see you all later, in the barracks.’ 

It seemed a long time before all of the eggs were finally empty, the disappointed candidates filing out. He had a word of encouragement for them too. ‘Don’t be too downhearted. There’ll be another chance soon enough. All this means is that your dragon hasn’t hatched yet.’ 

Blue riders dropped down, carefully gathering up the broken shards into baskets for disposal. Lessa strolled over. ‘A good Hatching, don’t you think? No-one hurt, again. This way works, doesn’t it?’ 

‘Indeed.’ 

‘Did you get the totals? Six bronzes, wasn’t it?’ 

He checked his list. ‘That’s right, Weyrwoman.’ 

Her eyes shone. ‘Well done, D’gar. I’ll see you at the feast.’ 

He gave a small, formal bow, mostly for the benefit of the remaining audience. Lessa wasn’t one to stand on ceremony. She climbed up into the stands to greet some folk she obviously knew. 

‘That was so exciting,’ H’rek said. ‘And moving, too. What happens now?’ 

‘I’ll check they’ve all survived their first meal, get the lads new names matched up to their dragons. And after that, we’ll get some food. Maybe even a cup of wine or two to celebrate.’ 

‘Good idea,’ H’rek linked arms with him again. ‘A perfect end to a perfect day.’ 

D’gar suppressed a chuckle. ‘The end for you, you mean. For me, this is just the beginning.’ 

__

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following this story. Knowing that people were enjoying reading it made the hard work worth while. There may be a couple more stories connected with this one to follow, but in the mean time, if you want to read about D'gar's life at Fort Weyr before Lessa brought the Weyrs forward, please read my series [Fort Weyr - Eighth Pass](https://www.archiveofourown.org/series/1907281).
> 
> H'rek's time at Southern Weyr, prior to meeting D'gar can be found in the three stories ['A Hatching in Southern'](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23700700), ['First Flight'](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23734135) and ['Return to Benden Weyr'.](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23808577)


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